Too Young To Catch The Wind. Poem by Chika Offor

a rhythm of love held close, but never held back




I was just a boy with shaking knees,
Heart as loud as rustling trees.
In JSS2, behind my desk,
I wrote her name—my quiet quest.
She was sunlight in a school-day skirt,
And I… was just a boy who hurt.

She answered questions with her fire,
Raised hands like candles reaching higher.
I watched. I dreamed. I stayed behind,
Afraid she'd call my heart unkind.
So I smiled small and stared at ground,
Too scared to let my truth be found.




We finished school, the years flew past,
But feelings like mine
They do not fast.
She left for Uni, flew like light,
I stayed back, holding dreams too tight.
But still her laugh would cross my mind,
A song I never left behind.

So late one night, when stars stood near,
I typed it out—despite the fear.
The truth I'd folded all those years:

"I've liked you, more than friends, my dear."



She didn't mock, she didn't burn,
Just gave me words too soft to turn:

"You're sweet, you are... but I can't pretend,
I don't date boys that I'm older than.
But you're a gem, you truly are
I'd love to be your friend from far."






And that was it. The gentle gate.
No slam, no scream. Just softened fate.
She stayed
In texts, in talks, in laughs at night,
But never in the way that felt quite right.

She sends me memes and voice notes bright,
And I reply with fake delight.
I know her favorite fruit and song,
I know which words she drags too long.
But I can't tell her anymore
That my whole heart is on the floor.




I've held hands with others, tried to date,
Hoping love could recreate.
But every kiss felt secondhand,
Like holding joy with someone else's hand.
There's always something missing there
Because they don't wear her smile, her stare.

She laughs, I melt. She speaks, I fall.
She says, "You're sweet, " I feel so small.
She tells me stories late at night,
And I hold on with all my might.
Because being near her hurts me still,
But being without her breaks my will.




So I talk to the moon when the hostel sleeps,
And I whisper to it what my heart keeps.
"She's close, you see but never mine.
She walks with me but not in time.
She calls me ‘friend' with lips so sweet,
But I'm just footsteps at her feet."

The moon, it nods, it doesn't speak.
It knows how long my soul's been weak.
It shines on dreams it can't possess,
And I suppose… it hurts far less.




She's kind, she's warm, she means no harm,
But her friendship feels like fire in calm.
Not burning wild but slow and true,
A soft goodbye that never flew.

And still I stay. I always will.
Though my chest grows quiet, my hands sit still.
Because love like this is not a choice,
It's not a scream, it's not a voice

It's in the spaces no one sees,
Like dust beneath your weary knees.




And that's what hurts the deepest way:

She's here.
She didn't walk away.
She cares. She calls. She sends her light
But not the love I dream at night.

And I… I carry what can't be said,
A thousand poems inside my head.
She'll never know what I erase,
When I smile back into her face.




A boy, still waiting, still kind, still true.
Still loving her in ways
She never knew.