out of place
confronts in the wee day,
street urchins stole my green paper,
spent the night in the pricky hay,
seeping dew on the near tree-pepper.
broken pieces of a poor heart,
swollen feet tasted enough miles,
and when the day is yet to break apart,
you distort all that make me smile.
a bet, bet for the best,
i gambled, only to gain the grave,
used all the power for all the rest,
and now am left with no coin to save.
Copyright © Brian Nyangweso | Year Posted 2012