A Market of Woolen Blanket

I could see every youth moving to that market. A place where I bought my solely blanket; An abode full of different people who make noise. There, men and women are standing still in poise. A bachelor had gone there with his puppet; Nights his third leg had been badly upright. To buy a nice and fitting woolen blanket lard. His cabin had been silent like a new graveyard. Such was a place of known people to meet anytime; For singles and divorced to seek heating covers. For their nightly hidden full sleep not of snores. Delight they relish, not in mass, but in silence. For killing nightly cold, a bachelor never marries. With true manhood, he does so to become a lord. Manhood of those who offer their blood daughter In a good mood, he begets male and female broods. Such is the blanket that quilts the nightly cold. Poem by Mugisho N Theophile