I wait for love patiently
the way one waits
for a special delivery.
All day, I sit by the door
ears flared like a calabash
waiting quietly for the bell to ring.
By noon it rings eventually,
excitedly, I leap for the door
but it’s only my neighbour Mosun;
Last night the boy was thirteen
This morning he is thirty
To look out of his window
Asking ‘where did the days go?’
Like pages of an open book
Turned by the wind.
But that is truth and that is life
To sleep a child and wake a man