There are days I miss
And I don’t want to believe
That they’re gone.
Days my mind was a stream
Days I held a pen
And there seemed to be a magnet
The pen was glued to paper.
And the mind raging like a river
Flowing more thanI could write.
I miss those days
But i won’t believe that they’re gone
Nights I had dreams
And I woke up every morning
Remembering each detail.
Like a movie they unfolded.
Days in the middle of work,
I burst out into a poem or song
I missed neither beat nor rhyme.
There are days I no longer miss
Because I know they’re still with me
They’re not gone.
Because young minds grow.
With experience they refine.
Like wine they become finer.
Writers will write, poets will narrate
Songs will be sung.
Even in grey hair, Like a testimony,
Stacks of books will stand beside them
Orchestras will bow to them
So wait for it
The best is yet
There are days I long for,
Because I know
Those are days to come.
Storiesitell
Nyamburandungu.
6-09-2019