Here I am dragging air through my nostrils
not sure which one would be my last,
they carefully caress my lungs
sending reeling feelings
one only finds on mother's breast.
The wind came whistling nature's thoughts,
it's warm lips gently pressed
against my ears.
I couldn't look her in the eye  
for fear of being blinded
by the golden grains of the hot Sahara.
Would I miss this scorching African Sun?
Could my mother live through this heartbreak?
How long could my father carefully hold those tears?
Maybe I should  just keep pushing,
keep pushing until my back's against the wall.
There's something out there lurking in the shadows
tearing at my fragile heart
as though it were a dying child's plaything.
It's trying to lay its cold hand on my heart.
I know not its name, nor could I remember the face
but the smile is unmistakably sardonic
and it smelled of death.