My Father’s Gaze
We sat down facing the west
As the sun lazily crawled behind the green hills
Under the older than time mango tree
We sat on rickety three legged stools.
His face engulfed in mystery
Stroking his grey mustache
He gazed...
My Last Poem
How would it be
The last strike of my pen
When death shall grasp me
Come like a crimson tide
When I will be no more
Will it form part of my eulogy
Would it live on beyond me
Would it...
