A thought of you sinks my heart into my bowels.
I reach out like a world cup fixture.
Often I don’t call,
But that can’t replace my recall.
I beckon when my skin is itchy.
Forgetting I sound fishy.
I’m draped in ash like an Israelite.
My pupils can’t connect with yours.
I’m abased and my knees plead guilty.
But as rivers never forget their path,
Back into the sea;
My heart will never meander in its path,
In search of your heart.
Because you always soak up my rain
Like my towel.
Kofi Boateng (Ghana Institute of Journalism)