Gibberish
For me. . .
If my life is to be determined by how much I love you then I’ll never die.
Every morning I go on the beach and draw gibberish in the sand with a stick. It makes me feel like I’m a kid again. There’s an old man named Mr. Duncan there everyday watching the sunrise.
“G’mawnin Missa Duncan”.
“Mawnin Ras”.
Mr. Duncan usually critiques my gibberish. I accept what he says because if ever a man could own this beach, it would be Mr. Duncan’s beach and Mr. Duncan‘s sunrise. Today he said my gibberish was shaped like a heart-
If my life is to be determined by how much I love you then I’ll never die.
I don’t like to wake you in the morning. The half hour I have before you wake, I spend on Mr. Duncan’s beach, writing gibberish in his sand, while he watches his sunrise.
“G’mawnin Missa Duncan”.
“Mawnin Ras”.
I make sure I’m back early to watch you wake. See cause Mr. Duncan has his sunrise, but I like watching something else. Today he said my gibberish was in the shape of a woman.
If my life is to be determined by how much I love you then I’ll never die.
I wonder where Mr. Duncan comes from. I wonder why he watches this sunrise instead of watching something else. I wonder where his ‘something else’ has gone. And I wonder if watching that light gives him the same feeling that watching her did. Someday Mr. Duncan will be gone. Someday he won’t be here to say
“G’mawnin Missa Duncan”.
“Mawnin Ras”.
Someday it won’t his beach, his sunrise, his stick or his sand. Someday he won’t be here to tell me that my gibberish is in the shape of a crown. And I will miss old Mr. Duncan.
But I don’t need him to tell me how much I Love, You, my Queen.
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