a promise will be broken
an unsung poem will be etched
on the shores of time
ripe sorrows will flirt with grieving lines
unfinished lovelorn will float
atop an ocean of tears
each time
a half poem
pen and bottles
smirking in a confluence
of tears and liquor
and I’m drooling
in stupor
but it always begins with me
hypnotised by the smiling dimples of a chubby girl
(they always have dimples)
a bee drawn to nectar flaps his wings
oblivious of thorns
with tongue nestling my lips
I croon honeyed lines
comatosed by my honey
she slips
falls like an orange
hit by a wicked bamboo
pom!
I inhale her nectar
she licks and gulps honey
I sleep and stir in nectar
she drools in my honey
each time
a half poem
full sorrows
an ocean of tears
floating bottles and glasses
a drooling poem
she drifts from my hive like
night fleeing at the sight of dawn
she craves honeying by a
vinegar squinting bee
each time
a new promise
never to croon honey
never to sulk like an half eaten
akara ball snubbed by mama’s goat
left to the mandibles of red ants
each time
a new promise
never to sketch an unfinished lovelorn
never to drool in a confluence
I’m staring into her (eyes of) petals
crooning honey
watching Moni navigate the deeps and
breadths of her right dimples
and
I’m brewing the poem her lovelorn would spun
(a long one
like her olived hairs)
