Dirge To An Uncle Poem by abbas abubakar

Dirge To An Uncle



My voice is low and sober
Without the benign breathe
Of this gentle nous
That led my rod of knowledge
When I toddled in oblivion

Only for you to smile home
Basket full of light
After centuries of sojourn
Your first step was on fire
Cooked by living-deads in your hut

For decades
You lay watching in loneliness
With eyes that could not see
And mouth that only drool
Your bed became a restroom
And soon a tourist
Where all birds perched
Pouring their rythymless tunes
To your drumless ears

Your final wave was hot
But not a cooler one had we
Than the smiles prepared for you
In that place...

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