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.
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