The Young Lover
All the clouds where pistachio
The ink and the pen where not strong enough
The young lover brought himself to the window
He threw pebbles that tickled the weak glass
He did not know which weather was going to come out
His sweet and gentle sunny day
Or the thunderstorm of May
He braved himself and waited like a fox at night
Whether to varnish or stand like the oak in the rain
Copyright © Kudzai Mhangwa | Year Posted 2017
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