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
Copyright © Mugisho Theophile | Year Posted 2018
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