On Your Departure
The sky is a nervous orange
As the taxi creeps up the highway
You look away. Mama is holding back
tears.
In an hour you'll be up on a plane,
Leaving behind Mama, me and
The thoughtful harbour.
I look through the glass--Many a day
Have I dreamt of myself leaving,
Chasing the future yet hiding his face,
Washing the past, learning
To forget his name.
How I'll smile--and wave
Goodbye to the warm, muddy water.
In the front seat I'll sit, gathering
Remains of distant memories. I'll breathe in
Hard--the air of this city (though choking) that
I'll miss, gladly. How I'll kiss
And hug and give promises.
And I'll board the plane at midnight--
Looking through the glass, down
On Aberdeen, Happy Valley, and
Home.
I'll be leaving.
But now, all my thoughts are occupied
By the tang of the drunken orange,
And you, Mama, the lights in Victoria Harbour,
And the childish mist in my eyes.
