A ship, she was,
docked in my harbour,
lowered her anchor,
rusty, yet flawless,
she danced to the mocking waves,
rushing, breaking in her curves,
modestly dressed in sails,
she'd cruised seas, for days,
nights, months, just for me.
I sunk deep in her cabin,
behold, a chest of treasure, she held.
In pure jealous, I stabbed the captain,
and as the poor bloke bled,
I slowly stroked her mast,
she squeaked deep, in ecstasy,
trembling her salty ocean - wet iron.
She sailed for me, she came for me,
I must've been her cruising fantasy.
"In My Harbour"
Drew Poetry
~Andy Mwalasha
-
I was once as clean as a newly hatched chic's beak, but you turned me into hell's doormat. Misery's doorbell on pain's bunke... -
Gone are the days that you'd rest your head on my chest and smell the scent of my ripe goosebumps, those days that I would lose count o...
-
An all wrapping book. Our fore-fathers named it "Life". Well, we adopted the same name and so, we also call it "Life". A...
No comments:
Post a Comment