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Ships only ghosts could ride
"The clouds parted
like the pursed lips of desire".
Rains then poured out
like held-back tears of anger,
shedding emotions from the sky
like a recently heartbroken damsel.
The raindrops beat on the rusty roof—
a drum that only children could dance to.
But they danced not in the house,
but right there on the streets where
they stripped to their underpants,
and some even totally naked.
They danced, ran, sang, and even swam
in the puddles formed by the rain’s sorrow.
The rain cared not.
It poured like hot fluid in a container
with built-up, overwhelming anger,
warning parents to tell their children
to stop daring its wrath now, like wildfire—
getting out of control and ready to destroy.
An hour later,
the rain was already fulfilling its promise
of destruction and causing sorrows—
it pulled roofs off, made cars swim
to faraway water bodies
that turned them to ships that only ghosts could ride in.
And when the sky fell silent,
a hush drowned the streets.
No more laughter. No more song.
Only memory lingered—
of dancing feet and naked joy,
and a silence too loud to bear.
Copyright ©
Maclawrence Famuyiwa
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