In the end, my dad

I dreamed he was sitting in front of me
his fingers on his cheek, his thumb on his chin
deep in thought and I could ask him
tell me about your childhood, pa

he just looked at me

with a slight smile

.
in the end my dad
laid in his white deathbed

I kissed his cold forehead
walked out into the night and thought
I feel so heavy my legs can hardly
carry the weight, but I’ll see pa there
in a big library in the air

and so he still talks to me from his huge study

and so it is with nostalgia that I put down here
how they arrived in Prieska in the July holidays 

with a steam train from Windhoek 

on frosty, dark, early mornings

how he writes about the red coals 

of a fireplace at the station
and how asbestos dust from Koegas mine rose up
with their jumping and dancing to the funny sounds
of the old pianola

and so my dear dead dad
still tells me about his hard poor
dry rich days

of childhood

🦋🌿

© Annora Eksteen, 2025