To Bose and Abdul

on days that a block is built
or time drains my eagerness
I want to sly my pen
and retreat slowly to my shell
but when I remember I’m a few
hours away from reading a piece
that ends with “Bose,” I write
for I’ve looked into the mirror
and I’ve asked that at 70, I want
to continue writing poems like you

this year didn’t go as we agreed
but in between the broken lines
we found a place to call ours
bitten twice but not for once shy
counted the scars as luck, as love
numbered the stars with imagination
the dream is alive as long as we don’t
forget to remember it at dawn & noon
we’ve become water. being ourselves
whenever. however. wherever we are

Tomide Abdul