How I miss the smiles that rose with the morning sun,
The sprouting freshness in the eastern breeze,
That caressed my lobes in the hands of my man.
Our congress, our union, now a broken dream,
That won’t reveal impending juggernauts of emotional
As I wait and wait for a deferred dream,
That tosses my torso and teases like a cat,
In the wildest of nights wishing Jimmy comes again.
Now the sun sets with a sack of our sighs,
Then rises to nurse our forlorn hearts,
Torn between bitterness and a false hope_
as we envision the day when Jimmy comes again.
In my dreams, unbidden, he trots all he wants,
Amidst riches and plenty, can I not prolong this dream?
That cruelly ejects me into reality like a scratched musical vinyl
Badly done by dancehall youths,
while strumming an attempt on a tune;
When Jimmy shall come again.
In a garbled voice I hear him hum,
A susurration that pales the heart,
Serenading a night devoid of stars
necrotizing lyrics on the lobe of my soul,
As memories of him solidify into angst;
a sepsis that courts emotional gangrene
for a wandering; migrant husband
rolling in the depths of xenophobic realms
As I strum a limerick for his safekeeping_
Hurry up Jimmy; I’m getting older!