your hand sleepy
and resting deeply
in mine,
the sound of your voice
pecking like a sparrow,
tickling my heart back to life;
beaming, vast, sunshiny
and unbroken.

Have you ever imagined the horrors of being driven in a sleek Land Cruiser that is the definition of 'noire'? When the car doors are locked, so is your mind and your eyes are as tinted ad the windows.
I gaze out at the beggars stretching their sun-dried palms to me asking for a minute portion of the price of my fountain pen. The stretch of desperate beggars go on for nearly ninety kilometres. I can see it in their shiny, burnt eyes that they pray for 'Goodluck.' I do not speak only of financial beggars but also of beggars of national progress. This includes me hidden behind the tinted windows.

Broken hearts.
Deep sorrows,
Sad thoughts.
Monotonous life.
Make up for my silent cries.

Shattered promises.,
Ugly mistakes,
Desperate pleas,
For a life never to come,
Haunts me in my dreams.