Growing up, in summer months
We would ride
wheelbarrows
across barrows
and potholes.
We would fall
o
f
f
the rugged metal
and then
c r a w l
back onto it.
We would run across fields
that took us farther
and farther
from the calls of our fathers
and mothers
before
c r a w l i n g
back to them.
Growing up, in summer months
we were nonchalant
about the absence of
electricity
because we had our own eccentricity
flowing through veins
of simplicity and
naivety.
Growing up, in summer months
we would rise,
we would fall – then crawl,
we would run across fields.
We were nonchalant
;
I was nonchalant.
Because my own eccentricity
flowed t h r o u g h veins
of simplicity
and
naivety.
I miss that.
© Hudson Biko
hudson biko 