The protege [a poem]
Looking back, the memories flash, and then flood like an endless dam. I smile as the thoughts become clearer and the memories invade me, the sweetest of feelings.
The memory of my little self in your warm embrace, your strong arms holding me to place so I don’t fall to the floor.
The highlight of the days, the times when I made the wet sandy floor my bed, rolling myself in it in the course of my countless plays with fellow kids.
The care with which you washed me up and clothed me in a neat fresh linen.
The countless times you bought textbooks and hired private tutors to help me build my academic prowess.
The countless novels you bought, simply because I asked you to. The numerous ones you got without being asked because you realized that I had grown to like reading them.
How you would always call me to give me the novels each time you got them. How you would always inform me whenever you got a new newspaper, for we have become reading partners.
The smile on your face whenever I bring you a new novel I had bought or found in the house. The love for stories, the passion for reading and analysing fictions, one that I have inherited and polished via your indirect tutorship. I have become your protege!