The boy in the orange top was ready
he had waited two long years for this
and anticipation was never more agonising
especially in that of a boy.
They got patience like thin ice, mama said
Boys don't wait for nothin'
they take what they can while they young
and the people just laugh at they childishness
and the people just laugh at they smallness
but they grow like beanstalks in the middle of
the night
and they turn into ruthless men with beards so scratchy
you think they were cheese graters, like the ones mama used to have
men don't wait for nothin'
and the people just laugh at they soft cheeks
and the people just laugh at they rough beards
the boy in the orange top stood outside the barber
waited until the doors of manhood opened
YOU ARE READING
All Songbirds Have Tapered Feathers
PoetryA collection of some of my poetry, accumulated over the years. In this collection, I write about the turmoils of war, the titillating feel of love, and the tantalising wave of grief, but most of all; the tragic truth of having a heartbeat and the...
