Never

I have never walked by the Pyramids of Giza 

As the azan breaks the hot silence of the desert, 

With people shrouded in the shadow of that great spectacle, 

Yet, I walk down Oxford Street, dodging the crowds 

Like a child at a game of dodgeball (tell me which game) 

On the way to something or someone, with tired worn out trainers 

And headphones in so I may daydream 

 I have never heard a resonant voice echo across a stage, 

Crowdʼs cheering and screaming along to those lyrics, 

Instead 

My ears are attentive to my amma, 

whispering a poem about a crow and a child and a mother, 

Recited in her native tongue not mine. 

I may never understand or speak French, Italian, German,

As the inflection changes, your accent conforming to each rule, 

However, I can fathom the soft syllables of my family's voice, 

Booming across a crowded room, trying to be heard. 

I translate some parts of Hindi, Bengali, Arabic 

As they fall easily from my mother's lips, 

Changing dialect when she sees fit, 

Finding connection whenever she can find time to just speak and sit. 

 I will never see a lion, a tiger or a feline predator stalking its prey, 

Hunting a gazelle about to pounce on its dinner 

But I felt the soft brush of a fat orange cat, 

Against my calf demanding for attention 

Mewling in the quiet of the night, 

Purring contentedly whilst the sun streams in. 

I may never fall in love in a European dream, 

Of buildings built in meticulous design, 

With light streaming in and gracing my face 

As a cigarette dangles off my lip, 

Coffee in hand and a newspaper in a language I can't read 

Apart from when I have fallen in love, 

Walking home in the coldest of winters,

 Bouncing between half-jokes and half-serious words, 

Whilst we kiss each other in between

The gloomy skies and shopping aisles.