An Unending Dream
Like a moss coated
on the balconies of childhood…
The white-necked crow ,
who perches daily
on the branches
of coffee tree .
In Umma’s language
it’s a ‘town crow.’
my imagination has
wings larger than the crow’s.
Would the town crow
carry my message to “Waappa?
When Umma gave a tinkling laugh,
I asked it to tell him
to bring me a winking doll.
Ripening and withering,
the coffee berries change.
By the ages gone,
The crow no longer
rests on the branches.
And the winking doll
never reached my hands.
