Dying of Anxiety

DYING OF ANXIETY Very tall, I mean not too short A Plump, you mean No, of a slim figurative expression Yes, but dark in body colour Not light enough to lit The room in darkness Neither here nor there, is that! Of the chocolate colour, Is she hot-tempered, over-jealous or Gentle like a dove without pretence My head chorused at once Still, dying of anxiety. Does he have a beard? Or his hair full of bush or baldness? Is he looking mean With a scaring scar on his face? Or does he belong to the “Lion Entanglement Tribe?” Is he a man with a tender heart? Or with a heart-melting gentle touch Does he have a strong palm like the farmer? Or snores like a pig while on a mattress She sighed a breath of relief to the day to behold As fear of the unknown grip her body. As cock crows in the dark early hours It’s a day off the d-day The day of emotional confrontation I smiled for the day to Romeo my Juliet Suddenly, anxiety cast aspersion on my smile. Alayande Stephen T. 5.44pm 12th November, 2007 It was inside an Ayobo vehicle, was going home for a revival. Lion Entanglement Tribe means people with Tribal marks in Africa