The Rose
Outside my mansion, as you dance as you shake
Reminding me of, the old golden days
When like flower gardens, my father and mother
Tendered my whole, and dressed and fed
As the wind blows by, you open like books
In my head you write, the nice letter I send her
As you shake by wind, you leave open her reply
That seemed to win, the seasoned poetry prize
As you welcome the bees, to suck your nectar
In my stomach you remind, my generous granny
Whose boiling pot she kept, open for our stomachs
That seemed to wane, and eaten by hunger
Your worst the thorns, protruding outwardly
Your foes to bite, the hissing snake
The way she spurt, throwing my boneless heart
That seemed to split, my piece into pieces
Copyright © Moses Kisiang'Ani Makhakha | Year Posted 2018
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