Your Heart Is of Fresh
There I stood faint-hearted at the mercy
Of your requite.
Hearing that rumbling thunder
In my mind
I plucked a red rose that withered
Straightaway as my spreadable disquiet
Infested it
Left, centre, right
In my desperate quest to stop the storm
I felt bubbling up, bubbling up, in you.
Oh! I nearly fainted to get it that there was no rainstorm
Building up but a warm welcoming heart
On that day I would have you crucified
If the wrong was against me.
Copyright © Allan Kazembe | Year Posted 2014
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