April's Fool

begin to enjoy
this feel of warm wetness
on the sandy beach,
listening to the rush of water
bathing the shore
and watching the seined fisher
casting his netted hopes in the sea.

here, too, I begin to gather feelings
like the fisherman over there
and I think of you standing in water
waving invisible hands of greeting.

I remember how yesterday
you considered me smart
to water the ground
you planted my seed on;
I still feel the wetness.
now I live at home
with every morning looking the same;
even today is the same
in your hurried absence,
as if distance is a measure of freedom:
nothing but this April's fool.

by Leonard Dabydeen

Comments (1)

I like the end of the first verse. It's worded well :)