25th June 2018

Laid on her bed
the breeze soft on her shoulders,
she heard his voice out the window talking to a neighbour
and jumped up to see him.
Moonlight shone on Papa’s dreadlocks.
He waved.
She copied.
A forgotten memory caught in her chest.
One from when she was four,
five,
six,
of waiting to see him arrive home
through the living room window.
Each day felt like a week then.
Now each day felt like a second.
‘Goodnight,’ he called.
She repeated, ‘Goodnight.’
When she curled back on top of the duvet, knees to her chest
she felt like a little girl.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: