Her smiles have grown weak
She used to give a wide smile
That would brighten her teeth.
Made me think of perfection in it
Laughing herself all day to my jokes
And the plays made by we
I made her happy but it was a persuasion.
As softly her dimples would form then thicken to hate faster.
She would shout,
Shout up high for the neighbors
To know my naughtiness
Dashed to the compound to pick
A cane that would strike
My senses awake.
It directed me to right
An African woman
A Ugandan citizen (the sense I had obtained)
I was.
Now I would play all long
Without her care
I have grown
My sighs leaving out my breathe
But she has grown weaker
To chase me to sleep
To make me do right.
She no longer runs after me
My races set for a beating
She has grown weak
Neither the gods can save her
It’s a role of life.
She has to wither
Day by day
Night by night
Day passes
Months and soon years
Nothing repeats itself.
The clock ticks
Twelve o’clock
Its midnight
Another day gone
She’s growing weaker
Weaker to life’s rules.
YOU ARE READING
Woman
Poetry'Woman' is a collection of poems that explores themes of love lust emancipation grief death loneliness and all about a she in my world.
