Where the wild things are

A Poem by Abhra

Where the wild things were
once hidden,
somewhere between a then and forgetting.
I still have the names and the count of sands
on my feet.
The small boat of shadows,
and a roadmap of seas.

Once where the wild things were
among the mermaids of skies,
and the lightness of cotton
I kept my soons,
and a small count of alphabets,
thinking one day when we have spent
silence, we would need them
as markers, to pebble our way back.

Sometimes where the wild things still are
Cast in sand dunes and the goose bumps
of evening promises,
there lies a small part of my Africa heart
tattooing a memory of you.

And if memories shall not relent
those days will remain,
with whatever little’s thats left to be said
folded in silence and goodbyes
among the smudged crimson of love and poesies,
between the waving waves and the shorelines of
where the wild things are.