When Advice Quitted And Went Downhill Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

Standing to reminisce about the
tea times we had and did not heed
her words; seeing her go downhill
never to speak again brings sadness,
on cheeks loaded with regret, then tears.
Moments took a sour turn like curdled
milk. Wipe teas and bless these visible
times gone. I threw them in the garbage
where they remain unretrievable.
Advice went downhill, past my left eye. I could
not stop it and now I swallow tears in a
moment of regret.

If I call back time and with wheels
entice back the words, this is my No
to the words gone. If the smell of
marula blossoms pink could conjure
smells of a brew to come before the
green fruit forms; then let us call
back advice to come uphill to me at
our rendezvous. It is time where
second chances, once umpteenth chances
are received with reverence.

Here eyeballs drill into each other,
to milk the truth with a clean sifting,
of unspoken oneness, for not to do so is
to want to go on a lonely mountain climb,
wondering if advice came along, even if
in the last one of the suitcases, what would
one do. This messing up keeps continuing,
as you dilly dally and then the chance goes
the way of the first one. Oops! Is just
a word that says, "shouldn't have done that."
It gets nothing back to you. You follow headlong
on this downhill and all see you doing real
goofing.