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Remnants of a love that meant so much

The remnants of what we built don't wash away with the seasonal rain;
They sit like heavy clay at the bottom of a dried-up borehole.
Perhaps our calendar together was short, a brief lease on happiness,
A whispered contract written on water, a fleeting relief from the wind.

We used to dance with heavy words until the midnight cold broke,
Believing we could reclaim a connection the city had already priced out.
With every stride across the unpaved roads, our bond tried to take flight,
A stubborn fire we fed with dry wood, burning too bright to last.

Your laughter used to echo off the corrugated roofs, a sharp melody,
A local rhythm that our solitary souls could never quite match.
But like the dust kicked up by a passing vehicle, our time went astray,
Leaving a heavy silence behind, a funeral song for a love we couldn't budget.

Yet I am not wandering blindly through this psychological wreckage.
I bring my heavy chest back to the Kgotla of my mind, finding peace with the Creator.
I recite the heavy verses of the old people, the stories they never put in textbooks,
Sifting through lands that the maps forgot, where love once had a name.

I will return to the edge of the rapids for the echoes of my final verse,
Not as a broken man, but burning softly like a lantern in Kachikau nights.
Whether the community notices my footprint or not,
I will come and go,Leaving behind these blunt whispers of what it means to survive the frost.
In the thick stillness of the Chobe night, when the engines finally stop,
I will deposit my secrets into the sand, knowing love remains an unpayable debt
A quiet, unyielding asset that even the coldest winter cannot repossess.

changei do not know?

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