Letter to Mummy.

Mummy,

Your heart is rest,
But I ain't weary yet.
Your side is a break,
One I ain't ready to take.

Thoughts of you are become frequent,
Like my mind is suddenly their vent,
They come again and again and again,
Like the Lagos rain.

I know they could be baits,
Like poisoned meals served in fine plates,
These could be floods meant to weaken my wall,
and make me answer the home coming call.

But how do I know the past is buried?
That the rivers of time have had it carried,
Far beyond memories reach,
That we ne'er recall what once brought the breach.

I think of you as love and rest,
While all you know is life's quest,
So when life takes a different turn,
All else becomes foregone.

So I resolve to tarry a lot more,
And get the fullness of what I long for,
That the end might justify the means,
And find a way to heal the hurt feelings.