Losing your Friday

a poem by Anthony Chukwuemeka Nwosu, Nigeria - poetry writer, author, poet

The lines of character are not so stable
It twists towards the sky
Bends around the clouds
Then takes a powerful thrust towards the ground
Crashing with it, all it accumulates
Only to rise up in same fashion

He was never the best man
The days were conflicting
Call him an oxymoron, a beautiful rogue
He was good on Mondays then bad on Thursdays
Only to be revived with cigarettes the next day
Little wonder they called him 'Friday'

Mum could not place a leash on this beast
She whined about his honking by past midnight
Several times reasoning how a man so unstable could stably keep late nights
It was a wonder to her
But we knew Friday better
He was always the unstable stability

Honestly, I miss you
Our early Sunday trips to a restaurant close to your office
Yes, on Sundays when the neighborhood would file to their various churches
This seems weird now, but nobody was weirder
Raphael raged with envy
The weirdest was that you didn't give a hoot
Brother would cry out to Mother, it became a norm

Now you're 21 years late, what?
How could you leave me Father?
Am I alone?
Brother now cries a different cry
At times I join, that of a deprived soul
So hollow
Oh! Mother, where is your lover Friday?

Gone
Gone with the wind
Where can my fingers find this?
So long a journey
I was told to find it in the scriptures
So strange to my timid mind
Gone.









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