The Sunday Mail
Linda Masudze University of Zimbabwe
He waited patiently
Hoping to see her desperately
It had been long
Since they last talked
About the things that made her
Giggle as her eyes twinkled
And the showers of joy sprinkled
And cleansed her dark lonely world
His American jacket was not enough shield
against the piercing July winds
It was 4pm in the afternoon
Yet the sun still refused to shine
It was darker than usual
He pondered on whether she would
Remember him in his beard
Had she changed too?
That much he never go to know
It had been a long time since they talked
From a distance, a wanton figure approached
Her stride was of a ghost
Her face had been ravished
By lines which told tales
Of hope long lost
The past life was a mystery
Locked up in the Lover`s History
Something that lay in a lone cemetery
Buried and Forgotten
He stared
She glanced
The ring of promise had rusted
From her finger
His sparkled like gold
For a moment the past
Seemed to be live again
She open her cracked lips to smile
He stretched his hand to close the mile
Between them
But
A faint, little weeping voice wailed behind her
“Mama” it cried.
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