Two Little Boys

​Two little boys watching the world race by

Watching hills grow and suns rise

Catching wanderlust for the first time

Two little boys full of colour and personality

One red one yellow

Colourcoded and sacrosanct in possession 

Two little boys peering into a catalogue 

Imagining a future filled with toys

Fuelling an imagination without limits

Two little boys running the streets and alleyways

With new cars in tow 

Hoods smashed open to make “open top” cars

Two little boys sharing a love for reading

Plying voyages printed in the pages of a book

Opening their minds to a world in the past, future and present

Two little boys taking everything apart

Putting them back together but hardly ever getting them to work

And then hailing because they found a spark

Two little boys ever so restless

Roaming the territory

Sharing a bicycle and with a dog in tow

Two little boys fighting

One doing what the other cannot

So different yet so similar

Two little boys on the ride back home

Cramped into too-small seats

Yet filled with the pride of men grown 

Two little boys who never grew up

Even if they are no longer little boys

Reliving the days of future past

Where men were gods

And they were watching the world race by

Watching hills grow and suns rise

Catching wanderlust for the first time

© Sena Frost ‘17


When We Were Young



Dear brother,

As I write to you,

I am awash with memories,

A timeline of pictures streaming backwards.

This is an effusion of love,

My tale of pride,

Of the life we have shared,


I love you,

Alternate combination of our parent’s DNA,

Alleles and genomes sequenced in a slightly different pattern.

I remember you in my earliest memories.

A young thing,

A new baby,

My own little brother.

No questions,

Just accepting

That what is mine is yours

The first lesson on sharing.

You are my first friend,

My rival,

My team mate,

My vociferous side kick,

My brother,

You are.

In the dawn of our lives,

I watched over you,

Aware that if anything happened to you,

I was going to be beaten badly.

I hated you sometimes,

Oh how you’d frame me

For something you did.

I guess you were painting a picture of forgiveness and resolution.

I remember your tantrums,

Your little face going red as you sulk.

Your preference for coins over paper money because there was simply to much of them for you to lose all at a go.

I remember your love for yellow,

Remaining true to it throughout everything.

I always loved telling you things you didn’t know,

Then you’d put your finger on your chin and look into the sky pensively.

I remember the look of worry etched on your face when I stood on the brink of death.

I remember everything

That these pages couldn’t hold.

I know you play football with your left foot,

Draw your funny versions of my drawings.

They always left me wondering,

If you had applied yourself a little more,

You could have been me.

But then you didn’t

And you have grown

To be your own man.

Driven and focused,

Forever pushing me to better myself,


When we were young,

We were inseparable.

Like fire and smoke,

Milling round our point of combustion,

Our adventures,


Roaming the lengths and breadths of our city.

The labyrinthine depths of our shared mind,

Not two halves of a whole,

But two wholes in our very own dimension,

A wormhole,

Of our fantasies and visions.

We are different

But when you look at our music,

Notes gliding on the scale

We couldn’t be more similar.

When we were young,

We traded blows,

And cried,

And took bullets for each other.

You are,

My best man,

My first friend,

My rival,

My motivator,

You are,

Blood of my blood,

The never ending movie,

The soap opera

That our lives are

Which never stops playing.

Forever stuck in when we were young.

I want you to know that,

I am there for you.

You are my pride,

Because you are you,

And for that,

I am content.

I give you my love,

As your brother.



~for Enyonam

© Sena Frost 2015