walk by my street and whistle
amma leave my boiling pot of of soup running your wayi think that you have a wind of your own
because it turns me around like the dancing leaves in the falli don’t know what to do with your eyes
it has a warmness that soothes my goosebumpsyou have this thing with your palms
holding me is your own bondage because I am going nowhereforget the lighted italian restaurant
an afternoon nap in the island of your arms is my preferencei don’t mean to compete with king solomon
but your love is a finer fine winefavour emeakama
October 30. 2017
Favour's Pen 