Anemoia

Muhammad Zakariya Ibrahim, Nigeria

Aye, it was right here, In antiqueness of serene.
From across the valleys and dunes, When the spread-lands were vintage and green.
When stories flourished with the winds, like the flakes of leaves.
When trends were piled in the smoke of trains, and everything was worth seeing, listening and feeling.
When gloom was kept lit by the burning candle-lights, and minarets were growing taller like the trees of palms.
How I wish every sweet dream comes true, I would have traveled back, back to the rails.
To the coach of the train, to the remnants of the twenties and beyond.
When the sun was cool and the moon; the moon was young.
When the seas were calm and the clouds seemed closer.
And the persistence of these subtle déjà vus makes me feel like I dwelt the moments for real.
Every here and there I was there in the pictures, black and white, colourful colourlessness.
The rain still sprinkle on the same pavements.
What were the rainbows like? Reds, yellows and blues…?
What were nights like, what were the bedtime tales?
What were the days like?
They feel as nigh as a blink away, yet they are gone with the effluents.
They made me see through my young eyes that
All songs of life are similar, the crescence of its phases are sung by the same crescendo.
We just seem to perceive the cadence differently.
And the first verses are always drawing us to the first strings.
Drawing us to a place called anemoia, making it a dwelling home.

Muhammad is a Nigerian writer. He is currently an undergraduate student in biochemistry. Writing poetry is his hobby, and he has written a hundreds of poems. This is his first poetry contest entry.