PoetryBluff

How could it be, that three and a half years have passed. It was then that I came with a heavy heart, determined to use what's left of the one week to finish what I had started. I came to my godsister's place to do the final touch up on the poetry webpage I had been involved in. My final dealing with Emerson, Yeats, Fitzgerald. In one week time I was about to be enlisted for the army.

That china kid is here to play again. After so long nothing had change. He seems bigger, taller, but I couldn't be sure. Looking at the kid now seemed to erode the very little memory I had of him. He could well have shrunked but my mind would still perceive him to have had grown taller. I wonder if he still recognizes me. I broke into a nervous smile, the best one I could muster to hid my nervy heart. The is nothing quite as shameful as being forgotten by someone, even if the someone happens to be a child.

Do you still remember me?

I do. He looked at me with his eyes beaming, breaking into those enchanting boyish smiles. I cant help but returned a sheepish grin. That kid had just made my day. My godnephew, one year younger but very much smaller in size, peered over the sofa to see who was outside. Titi korkor! Titi korkor!! My sister came out of the kitchen and saw me. I noticed that she too was trying to hid her smile. I was quickly ushered in.

If time can stop, it must have did in this house. The CD that I had bought 3 years ago still lays laying here on the table. The life I had then had arched into my memory, but now upon my returning, I realized it never did become just another memory. It laid there all this time, as if it were waiting for me to return. As if it was just yesterday that I was here. As if time never did fled by.

The china kid have grown into a pretty little boy. Those boyish looks that will, in time to come, charm and break many young girl's heart. The one thing that surprised me most is the way he converse in English. Something did change afterall. He lost the uncertain inaccurate accent that people growing up in Chinese speaking families tend to have. That overcompensating way they tend to speak. He speaks now with the demeanor like that of any kid brought up in a good English family. Yet he possess none of the cockiness, that self-indulging muckness, the over bearing confidence English educated kids tend to have. Even at such tender age, it is obvious to see that he retained a certain easy humility. One that not even time nor experiences can buy.

For some reasons I fluster with pride at the thought of him. I wonder why.