Cambridge Memoir

You know how I always wish I were
a better kid that makes you proud,
that you'd hold with both hands and
sketch a gleamy future for - did I
let you down when I was walking in
thunderless curiosity, no box-ticking,
all marks deducted for over-questioning;
but I tried, to run, to swim, to reach
above the impossible star that tells
the apple to fall, black holes to glow,
spins to align when symmetry breaks
- those trifles I fall in love with
drowsing at midnight, for which I cried,
when you walk your painful steps
upon my aching back. Hey - you are not
my home I knew you never liked me
and my tearful run. My weak limbs
cannot take all the heavy weight of rains;
but I still made a wish you would
unclothe your harshness and come to
the bridge, softly kissing bye
my flimsy smile and the kid inside.
Just a tiny tap on forehead, say it's
good enough then wish me luck
I will give my name to meteors
and walk until the end of path -
just a tiny tap, so that
I don't feel sorry for being no more
than a brief sentence on your memoir.