If only times would change, the clock unwinded,
Giving time to relive the days gone past unnoticed,
If only we knew that men were made for purpose,
not simply watch the sun going down in the west coast,
touching the horizon, disappearing beyong the oceans,
we would then leave down our spades, voice our murmurs,
dancing in mud, hands on bricks, rain soaking wet our clothes.
Yet, we would think of the ones we've left,
and different letters we sent,
Seeing their smiles, ink reflecting our stories,
"how i wish i was there...dear laurette" only that
i had to press on so that no tears would fall
on the clean dry plates, and a white cloth.
If only we knew that our knees would be bruised,
lamentations going fourth for you,
It passed our eyes to see our dreams,
but only ours were for you to live,
nev'r been of flashy cars or brighter "blings"
we simply lived that, some day
when the day dawns and
our sight could no longer be restored
for we have seen all that we could about life,
we would then know that, bending our backs,
or days in the rain and mud were not in vain,
For by the hat of straw, you would then go down
the aisle and you would then have a hat of cloth,
with a little tail, and your coloured garment,
telling our days of smiling to the rain.
i would have known, that even though i didnt know,
in picking those greens and reds from the garden,
and the colours of the city i have nev'r known,
when you come home,
you will tell me all about them,
and i will see them too,
in your coloured garment.
(dedicated to african fathers, who have worked hard, been enslaved but never given up to see their children growing up better, getting to varsity)
