When the granmoun would sit at night
Reminiscing and telling old tales of Lakay
Never did I know what it would do to my soul
The magic, laughter, romance and wickedness surrounding my people
Reached me through coughing, smoke battered vocal chords, cigarette smoke and weathered eyes.
The source of my umbilical cord had found a disguise
Sending me off, through a thousand sensations, to a mother that no longer lived or might have never been.
I can’t revive the awestruck nights to relive the stories
With age and understanding and learning of this bitter sweet life, they’ve dived down…deep down awaiting my pen to someday strike paper and make them walk back into this life.
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