Alone At Christmas

Hiding from the next burst of dusty air

He scrambles further into the rusted tank

Hiding from truth and false realities of joy

The mice around him seem busy

Fighting for the last crumbs of bread

Their spiky fur now dusty and unfriendly

This was a home he now loved

One human inhabitant and a thousand mice

This rusted old tank was all he had

All he owned

All he inherited from the its previous tenant

It was all he could ever give as a gift

He hugged his dry legs

They lacked moisture and gloss

The crack-lines formed several patterns

He could feel his skin crack even more

It hurt

Oh yes it did

But this was the least of his worries

His stomach growled

The chill was getting worse

The dusty harmattan wind was torturing

It carried the sweet aroma of Christmas food and lots of dust

The aroma was torturing

He hungered

He hungered for a lot

Warmth

Shelter

Love

Food

Companionship

Clothes

And family

He wanted it all

He watched them complain about silly things as they walked past his tank each day

They nagged about foolish things

He wished he could worry about such

Low batteries

Lack of power

Insecurity

Broken heels

Broken homes

And others

He had no reason for such complaints

He knew nothing about all that

He had never experienced such

Unknown to him were his parents

The streets fathered him

And hustle was his mama

This tank was now his home

The mice…his tenants

Alone he was at Christmas

Alone and hungry

Alone in the cold

Alone in his tank

By Sylvia Chika

sylviachika@gmail.com

http://sylviachika.blogspot.com/

http://sylviachika.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/sylviachikablog

Twitter:@sylviaoz

© SylviaChika 2013

Sing Me a Sweet Carol

Sing me a sweet song

Sing me a sweet carol

Sing me a sweet Christmas song

Sing it to me with gracious melody

Sing it to me

Sing and do not stop

My heart leaps in anticipation

I hunger for your sweet voice

A rare gift from our Maker

You sing so well

You sweeten my heart

You cause the dark clouds to sail away

You bring sunshine into my life

Sing to me

Do not shut your lips

My sweet nightingale

Sing to me again

Repeat the song

Over and over again

Alert my senses with sweet music

Cause me to shiver in joy

I’m sailing

Sailing far far away

Away with all the music notes

Far away in Christmas bliss!

By Sylvia Chika

sylviachika@gmail.com

http://sylviachika.blogspot.com/

http://sylviachika.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/sylviachikablog

Twitter:@sylviaoz

© SylviaChika 2013

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A KING

The story that tore his heart…

It started with “once upon a time”

And ended with “Alas he became king”

He felt so horrible

He tried to hold back tears

But they spilled freely

He couldn’t contain his emotions

A sob turned to a hysterical cry

The piece of paper was getting heavy

It was peacefully absorbing the salty drops

The story tore his heart

The tale broke his heart

It was so true

It carried the truth

But just like quinine

It was hard to swallow

The writer just sat there

Staring at him

Watching his every reaction

The writer was shaken

And then the writer had a strange expression on his face

The writer did not expect such a story

A story from a man who oozed confidence and royalty

The king didn’t realise how difficult it would be

How difficult it would be to read his own story…his true story

This was the story of his life

The story of a little pauper turned king

No one was given the privilege to see him this way

He never let himself get this emotional

He was strong and wise

He was the king of his nation

But this writer had found his weakness

“His story written in ink”

The tears had stopped

But the writer was still in shock

He took a deep breath

He picked his sceptre

Majestically he stood

With a gentle stride

He approached the writer

Fearful yet hopeful he handed the writer the last page

And with shaky hands the writer received the last page of the book

“Print and distribute! Let them know their king!”

With these words he left the room

Leaving the poor writer alone in the auditorium

This was the beginning of the truth

A priceless story of the king’s unfathomable shine

The true story of a great king

The autobiography of a king

By Sylvia Chika

sylviachika@gmail.com

http://sylviachika.blogspot.com/

http://sylviachika.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/sylviachikablog

Twitter:@sylviaoz

© SylviaChika 2013

I LOVE YOU IN A MILLION CHILDISH WAYS

Far

Far away

I wish to go

I wish to go far

Far away with you

To be with you

To be with you and you alone

I have dreams

Beautiful dreams

Colourful dreams

I see a rainbow

I glide from one end of the rainbow to the other end

We glide together

Oh such silly dreams!

You are my friend

You are my best friend

You make me feel safe

A man you are

A man who loves me

I feel peace

You give me peace

I say so little

You talk so much

But the words I speak are always true

No tales

Just truth

I’ve said I love you so many times

In a million childish ways

A shy tongue

My shy tongue cuddles my words

Sometimes I wish I could talk as much as you do

To rattle about life and love

But my shy lips just form a curve…I smile

And then I look away

That is my own way of saying “I love you”

By Sylvia Chika

sylviachika@gmail.com

http://sylviachika.blogspot.com/

http://sylviachika.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/sylviachikablog

Twitter:@sylviaoz

© SylviaChika 2013