They have not fallen through the cracks

Written by: Chuma Okonkwo

Here I sit on the corner of the bed;
In the middle of the night
All alone, with an avalanche of thoughts
About the old times; some old faces
Flowing in an undulating motion
They haven’t fallen through the cracks.

Like flip-flop they came upon my mind
I recalled the cordial conversations
The mid night jamborees
The plates we shared
The glasses we clinked
Our travails as ‘young blood’
They haven’t fallen through the cracks.

Mind-bogglingly, times flew in quick time;
Days went swiftly;
Weeks rushed through;
Months raced inordinately;
Years gone like a pacey story;
And I never see your faces
Memories are all I have got
They haven’t fallen through the cracks.

Indubitably, we have become busy bees
We ‘hunker down’ everyday
Cracking to make a name
We used to ‘holler’ every so often
Back in the days we were ‘young blood’
Now we ‘hello’ once in a blue moon
We’re engulfed in endless promises to ring back
Our friendships have become endangered species
They haven’t fallen through the cracks.

I’m sick of this derisible game
These endless promises to ring back; the lip services
But tomorrow comes; and it goes
We are still our old persons; new wines in old bottles
Our closeness depreciates
Distance among us widens and enlarges
We are left with the memories of the past
With the future dreary and forlorn
Is that what we merit in the end?
They haven’t fallen through the cracks.

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