I don't want to stain a fragrant white cloth;
Nor to pluck a gumamela bud that is yet to bloom;
Nor to unintentionally mold
A piece of clay
Before it can decide on its shape;
Nor to stop a spring
From becoming a river;
Nor to snatch a young flame
That's meant to warm another guy's room.
YOU ARE READING
The Slaughter and Other Poems
PoetryA collection of poems on faith, life, irony, and errors.
