Poem By Arsiema Berhane
I found him sitting there
On his only and lonely chair
Lots of papers on the floor
A candle of light on the table
And Beethoven's poster was on the door.
It looks so scary, cus the shadow of
The vodoo talisman has fallen on it.
He was writing, my friend
What he calls a poem
And never said a word to me.
Infact he never wanted me
In the room with him
For I'd only disturb the ideas on his mind.
So, knowin' that, I never said a word
But wrote a note
On a small torn paper
Saying 'tell me when you are done.'
And put it on the table
Where his eyes can reach it.
An hour passed
With out a single vibration in the room
And that was when
I admired myself for my patience.
But he was really trying me,
For I was so dying to tell him,
what I was going to tell.
I looked on my watch
And he looked at me
And said smiling,
'Just one more minute, I'm done'.
With out me realising
That one minute, turned out to be
Two hours and half
My watch was saying, a quarter to three,
And that really made me angry.
'Ok that's it I'm going''
I said opening the door
But he didn’t look like he gave a damn.
'I came here to tell you an important something
But you are busy with your thing,
Your poem or whatever'. I said
And when I turned away
He said ' aight I'm done, '
'Tell me what's on your mind? '
That was when
After a moment of silence
I laughed and laughed and laughed
at my stupidity of forgetting
what I came to say.