write me a poem
a poem about new beginnings

a poem about hope, a line about life.
At his house made of mud and wattle he stood,
his trousers in tatters and chest bare.
His beards like coffee seeds and face covered in beads of sweat.
He sat at the corner of his house trying to light a fire for his porridge.

Knees folded to his chin…he raised his eyes and said,

“write me a poem”

a poem about hope and a line of life,

a poem about new beginnings.

a resigning look of a widowed and childless life.
a creak of old bones at each movement
life had stopped giving….

and then a veil was lifted

he could feel the sunrise in his hair

the breeze of hope on his chest,

the reconstruction of his weak bones.

life started to happen.

he wore a sly smile when he said,

‘he has written me a poem!’










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