I cherish you my breath,
You hold my health,
You could be my last,
Never cared in the past.
Bur worry dawns on me,
How later would be,
With the maggots yellow teeth,
Menacing at my flesh.
If I could evade death,
I’d save you dear breath,
But its live and roaring in my veins,
Like a mad hungry river thirsty to drawn.
Sucking my bones of its strength,
Draining my heart of its joy,
My hopes are covered with doubt,
And planting hollowness in me.
Its you breath that hold me,
My hopes clinging unto you,
Like a tick on dead skin,
Hoping it’d tick a little longer.
My breath,
My faith,
My health,
My death.
Monday, January 31, 2011
BAD BAKE
Bake the cake,
Take the pain,
Cake cracked,
Boring brown,
Bake cake bad.
Bad bake,
Heavy, brown-up,
Middle sunk,
Smeared & spread,
Bake cake bad.
Stomach sick,
Bake bad,
Stomach rumble,
Flour raw,
Bake cake bad.
Take the pain,
Cake cracked,
Boring brown,
Bake cake bad.
Bad bake,
Heavy, brown-up,
Middle sunk,
Smeared & spread,
Bake cake bad.
Stomach sick,
Bake bad,
Stomach rumble,
Flour raw,
Bake cake bad.
GREAT KEAN CITY
In days of uncertainty,
Fortune is dragged no further from death by fate,
This is all I conclude,
As on a street corner,
I sit and watch,
Like a tired journalist on eleventh hour,
A midst restlessness and despair,
In search of a breath- taking week pick.
Oh busy termites,
Do you ever rest?
To all directions you move,
Some, mumbling to themselves,
What do they say? God knows,
What are they thinking? I don’t know,
Can you tell me?
Don’t those shattered fractured
Hopes bother you too?
On scarce city grass,
Helplessly lie tired bones,
As though lifeless,
Neither the passing people,
Nor the noisy vehicles bother them,
Shot of grass,
On hot pavements they lie,
Don’t they feel the scorching sun?
Are they hungry or just tired?
Who dare ask them?
They are street men, women and kids!
We are too a noble species
(To twist reality)
What else we can’t mix,
Kean City a dilemma.
Is life a match in a pitch?
With a discriminative referee?
Oh! No, life’s referee is God,
All non-discriminative,
His ambassadors all over,
Some doubt their work, an inch apart,
But to take it on the face,
Doubts right in place,
Who’s best?
I won’t test,
It’s God they call,
For you and I to smile,
Our eyes tear filled,
As on the other end,
On a man’s neck hang a tyre.
Caught with long hands,
Oh dear, round the bend,
My beloved ones, cries the man,
His pursuers turn,
And sees a nursery,
Is that their teacher?
Oh! No, mother,
All in tatters,
My fortieth day, fight against economy,
Pray my family in Kean city,
A sorrowful scene,
Who lacks a heart?
Oh passers-by,
My begging neighbour,
Arms stretched throughout the hour
Passing pockets coin less!
But where have the dropped ones gone?
Oh, Kean City,
What do I eat, junk?
No, doctor said,
A fruit, yark! So flat,
Ah! After all I’m a penniless street idler,
Not a pinch of salt,
Not a drop of water,
In my slum iron patch hut,
Real valuables, ha ha,
Who knows?
I fit Kim’s suit,
And Mbugua’s shoes, splendid!
Kinya’s pair of socks match well.
It’s evening, workers and jobless-home,
One hand in pocket,
Hear tip tap of my shoes
Kean City king is passing!
Am I not a graduate!
Who was hopeful like students?
But all offices close at my appearance,
So, a face I must make to please “she”,
Keen City demands,
To be real man for she,
Life is tooth and nail in Kean City,
Hurray! Kean City, back to hoe.
Fortune is dragged no further from death by fate,
This is all I conclude,
As on a street corner,
I sit and watch,
Like a tired journalist on eleventh hour,
A midst restlessness and despair,
In search of a breath- taking week pick.
Oh busy termites,
Do you ever rest?
To all directions you move,
Some, mumbling to themselves,
What do they say? God knows,
What are they thinking? I don’t know,
Can you tell me?
Don’t those shattered fractured
Hopes bother you too?
On scarce city grass,
Helplessly lie tired bones,
As though lifeless,
Neither the passing people,
Nor the noisy vehicles bother them,
Shot of grass,
On hot pavements they lie,
Don’t they feel the scorching sun?
Are they hungry or just tired?
Who dare ask them?
They are street men, women and kids!
We are too a noble species
(To twist reality)
What else we can’t mix,
Kean City a dilemma.
Is life a match in a pitch?
With a discriminative referee?
Oh! No, life’s referee is God,
All non-discriminative,
His ambassadors all over,
Some doubt their work, an inch apart,
But to take it on the face,
Doubts right in place,
Who’s best?
I won’t test,
It’s God they call,
For you and I to smile,
Our eyes tear filled,
As on the other end,
On a man’s neck hang a tyre.
Caught with long hands,
Oh dear, round the bend,
My beloved ones, cries the man,
His pursuers turn,
And sees a nursery,
Is that their teacher?
Oh! No, mother,
All in tatters,
My fortieth day, fight against economy,
Pray my family in Kean city,
A sorrowful scene,
Who lacks a heart?
Oh passers-by,
My begging neighbour,
Arms stretched throughout the hour
Passing pockets coin less!
But where have the dropped ones gone?
Oh, Kean City,
What do I eat, junk?
No, doctor said,
A fruit, yark! So flat,
Ah! After all I’m a penniless street idler,
Not a pinch of salt,
Not a drop of water,
In my slum iron patch hut,
Real valuables, ha ha,
Who knows?
I fit Kim’s suit,
And Mbugua’s shoes, splendid!
Kinya’s pair of socks match well.
It’s evening, workers and jobless-home,
One hand in pocket,
Hear tip tap of my shoes
Kean City king is passing!
Am I not a graduate!
Who was hopeful like students?
But all offices close at my appearance,
So, a face I must make to please “she”,
Keen City demands,
To be real man for she,
Life is tooth and nail in Kean City,
Hurray! Kean City, back to hoe.
NO DELUDE
Young moon,
Shines bright,
Through night,
Message of life,
As hard the strife,
Head high,
Hopes high,
Glorious rays,
All pray,
Forever stay.
I was lonely, people all round,
Sat, brushed shoulders with - yet all alone,
With human heart bound,
Out of satanic desires separated,
I could not talk like of the home,
Others with thoughts desolate,
Which in the wild did roam,
If only to find accusing points.
Old moon,
Full of doom,
Looks downcast,
Tired rays,
Doom on all,
They upon fall,
Message of death,
Cast on earth,
Beauty gone,
All is done,
Dies the moon,
Let it rise beautiful
Regarded as no guest,
If I were one by any way,
Called a loathing pest - for the better of the conclusion,
Haunted by break of day,
Through to its verdict,
Judgement from high court,
I was a daily convict.
Hey cousine, you are wrong,
Believe it the journey is long,
Glory over your father’s wealth,
Forget not we are on earth,
Your lips full of lies,
For I to be hated you tell,
Sweet to see you smile,
As you crouch on the couch,
It gonna be for a while,
If your books you don’t touch,
Your eyes can swallow the screen,
Whenever I make an appearance,
For loud you scream,
Before the remote you press,
Ha ha! Who cares,
Hey princess, your daddy is knocking.
Mere chases after the wind,
Always base-less fighters,
Things they think you mind,
Kept ever at bay,
When all you need is peace.
Peace, peace of mind,
Chilly and pale is morning,
No sun, birds over mourning,
Shapeless, hue-less lie the cloud,
Maize plant all bowed,
Still boiling is the storm,
As though not yet enough,
That’s to the heart too strong,
Great trouble to my mind,
Joy, I might never find,
But, to kneel down,
Right at his feet,
Coz of contempt he’s shown,
And beg him so sweet,
Never, never, never. do uncle proud.
Determination to the end,
Through meandering bends,
Like the most holy,
Let him and his folly,
Go on. Amen,
I’d gone to estate church,
As usual I did on Sundays,
At heart lay a stubborn hunch,
That ahead lay a big day,
Sat down in silence,
Not my heart did beat,
I noticed a special presence,
A silent prayer I made.
High grew noon heat,
Lifting my eyes,
Sweet smile in return,
From high skies,
Rich in power and grace,
That all human adore,
Oh! Heavens endure,
He at last ensure,
Of one true love.
This can’t be a dream,
Coz just a little while,
I saw like a light beam,
An angel at me smile,
If ahead lies what he showed,
Then life was not so cruel,
Just a smile could make it sweet,
But heavens close,
Gone is the light,
Not knowing the cause,
Sorrow seize me,
That light’s short to be.
Later often the light appeared,
Good friends we did become,
Pain and joy we shared,
Peace my fractured heart knew not,
Praying for the future,
Home-hate no threat,
At least one did care,
I’ll never in life retreat.
Mans pride is a beautiful flower,
Under natures concern, both have no power,
Still kindness to one another so expensive!
Whispers, hints at others shame,
Not a warning, even if we could,
But, Gods drift is swift, ever veiled,
Not a hint, of tomorrows plan,
Let he who made us take control.
Kneeling at the alter,
Only place to shelter,
From much congestion,
From much conflict and influence,
Away from old vacuum,
To gather back life,
To lord I say,
Take me home,
To be lone,
Thoughts well in,
Holding my sun bye rain,
Letting go of the past,
Holding my sun by rain,
Off to far land,
In future I’ll land,
My future at hand,
To mold or,
To break.
He has led me home,
My love, my only friend,
None like him, none,
So warm in my blood,
Running on and on,
Calmed to the long-wished for end,
Filled to the brim,
Near promised good,
Life’s turning glorious!
None like him ,none,
Resting on short talks,
As we on the way did walk,
Then he turned to go,
As if we won’t let it be,
We turn and smile,
But he walks away briskly,
God with you I last pray,
Off I go, till we meet again,
My saviour ascended. Amen
Shines bright,
Through night,
Message of life,
As hard the strife,
Head high,
Hopes high,
Glorious rays,
All pray,
Forever stay.
I was lonely, people all round,
Sat, brushed shoulders with - yet all alone,
With human heart bound,
Out of satanic desires separated,
I could not talk like of the home,
Others with thoughts desolate,
Which in the wild did roam,
If only to find accusing points.
Old moon,
Full of doom,
Looks downcast,
Tired rays,
Doom on all,
They upon fall,
Message of death,
Cast on earth,
Beauty gone,
All is done,
Dies the moon,
Let it rise beautiful
Regarded as no guest,
If I were one by any way,
Called a loathing pest - for the better of the conclusion,
Haunted by break of day,
Through to its verdict,
Judgement from high court,
I was a daily convict.
Hey cousine, you are wrong,
Believe it the journey is long,
Glory over your father’s wealth,
Forget not we are on earth,
Your lips full of lies,
For I to be hated you tell,
Sweet to see you smile,
As you crouch on the couch,
It gonna be for a while,
If your books you don’t touch,
Your eyes can swallow the screen,
Whenever I make an appearance,
For loud you scream,
Before the remote you press,
Ha ha! Who cares,
Hey princess, your daddy is knocking.
Mere chases after the wind,
Always base-less fighters,
Things they think you mind,
Kept ever at bay,
When all you need is peace.
Peace, peace of mind,
Chilly and pale is morning,
No sun, birds over mourning,
Shapeless, hue-less lie the cloud,
Maize plant all bowed,
Still boiling is the storm,
As though not yet enough,
That’s to the heart too strong,
Great trouble to my mind,
Joy, I might never find,
But, to kneel down,
Right at his feet,
Coz of contempt he’s shown,
And beg him so sweet,
Never, never, never. do uncle proud.
Determination to the end,
Through meandering bends,
Like the most holy,
Let him and his folly,
Go on. Amen,
I’d gone to estate church,
As usual I did on Sundays,
At heart lay a stubborn hunch,
That ahead lay a big day,
Sat down in silence,
Not my heart did beat,
I noticed a special presence,
A silent prayer I made.
High grew noon heat,
Lifting my eyes,
Sweet smile in return,
From high skies,
Rich in power and grace,
That all human adore,
Oh! Heavens endure,
He at last ensure,
Of one true love.
This can’t be a dream,
Coz just a little while,
I saw like a light beam,
An angel at me smile,
If ahead lies what he showed,
Then life was not so cruel,
Just a smile could make it sweet,
But heavens close,
Gone is the light,
Not knowing the cause,
Sorrow seize me,
That light’s short to be.
Later often the light appeared,
Good friends we did become,
Pain and joy we shared,
Peace my fractured heart knew not,
Praying for the future,
Home-hate no threat,
At least one did care,
I’ll never in life retreat.
Mans pride is a beautiful flower,
Under natures concern, both have no power,
Still kindness to one another so expensive!
Whispers, hints at others shame,
Not a warning, even if we could,
But, Gods drift is swift, ever veiled,
Not a hint, of tomorrows plan,
Let he who made us take control.
Kneeling at the alter,
Only place to shelter,
From much congestion,
From much conflict and influence,
Away from old vacuum,
To gather back life,
To lord I say,
Take me home,
To be lone,
Thoughts well in,
Holding my sun bye rain,
Letting go of the past,
Holding my sun by rain,
Off to far land,
In future I’ll land,
My future at hand,
To mold or,
To break.
He has led me home,
My love, my only friend,
None like him, none,
So warm in my blood,
Running on and on,
Calmed to the long-wished for end,
Filled to the brim,
Near promised good,
Life’s turning glorious!
None like him ,none,
Resting on short talks,
As we on the way did walk,
Then he turned to go,
As if we won’t let it be,
We turn and smile,
But he walks away briskly,
God with you I last pray,
Off I go, till we meet again,
My saviour ascended. Amen
Punglu n Pwap
This is my story about the people of Kanyading’ding’. It is not so long ago because Opuk my greatest grandfather was still there! And you know what? I’m here. Or you think if he were not there I would be here now? Wee usilete vako bana. You know what Puklu, these things have not started now, they have been there. Maybe, better.
Ehe Pakla,
I have never lied to you, have I?
A A never
So let me tell you about the Kanyading’ding’ people. (Clears his throat) there was this beautiful Nyadendi I have never known her real name, because every time I hear her story, emotions take me off, am carried by the winds to back in the days and at the feet of my greatest grand father I set myself, to be sure that today, I can tell you the same story. So, Puklu, allow me to call her Nyadendi. (A song in praise of Nyadendi, Puklu and Pakla both sing)
Hey! Hey! Pakla, you need some more kwete, and then you promise not to go there, but stay here, until the story is over.
Puklu, I have never said no to busaa. Let me tell you about Nyadendi, she was beautiful.
Must be the most beautiful woman any man has ever even had in his illusions. She was beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. (Drinks’ some busaa from the calabash) she had neither hip-star, nor spa-strap. But she left men staggering wherever she passed. Her breasts were covered in ondakla-banana bark- her waist was adorned in bright caloured beads do you know how they were called? Ah! Puklu, they are called winde. Wi
Nde
Wi
Nde.
Yes, winde. And beneath the winde, she had a round sisal skirt called owalo. I tell you, she was beautiful. On her neck she had tigo. The improvision my sister has named necklace. She had a pronounced gap on her upper jaw. Since these Kanyadin’ding’ people never wanted to leave anything without a name, they called her gap mbanya. Nyadendi Rambanya
Ooh Nyadendi, (a song – chogo min ohero nyadendi yo X2 ayaye nyadendi yo chogo min ohero Nyadendi yo) X2
Puklu, Puklu
Pakla,
Don’t finish the sweet song, before you see the graceful steps of Nyadendi balancing her water pot from the river. Her buttocks swayed in a rhythm that all of us have a tune for in the play ground. But the one Puklu and Pakla love is this
Kabich, Carrot X3
This is the reason, why many men went for amen (wrestling) until the strongest man in the village was found and allowed to marry Nyadendi. (Ululations) it was sigalagala everywhere, because the beautiful Nyadendi had finally found a mate. The village messenger ran to the transmission hill and lit a bon-fire that smoked above and beyond Kanyading’ding’. He sent happy celebration messages to the whole neighborhood and I no time, baskets full of roast meat or should I say aliya and ugali started trickling into the celebration arena. Delicacies like alenya and aluru were brought in plenty. People danced to ohangla tunes till morning and busaa was drunk in plenty. But, strength does not scare away death. Nyadendi’s husband died. Even Nyadendi’s beauty would not keep off tragedy. Puklu, Nyadendi is widowed.
But that does not take away a woman’s beauty, does it?
Puklu, because of this beauty, they say, Nyadendi’s husband died from chira!
He! Chira/
Chira! Nyadendi’s husband was long lilo. Umh, that strong man was impotent
Important?
Impotent.
Impoted
Impotent
Impotent
You got it Puklu. (Snaps his fingers) her husbands condition made her become a creeper, and not being too careful, it gave her husband the fever. The man died childless.
Wooii
But, Nyadendi was pregnant!
Mayie Pakla!
So she could not be inherited before she gave birth. All that could be done at this time was to shave her head. (Takes’ the calabash and returns it down without drinking) everybody watched and waited, for the birth of Nyadendi and Punglu, her secret lover. Nobody was to know, but somebody knew and now, everybody knew and waited. The day came, and nyamrerwa -midwife- was called, she tried, but as Nyadendi pushed and screamed out Punglu’s name, she breathed her last. The baby gave a shrill cry to signal both her birth and sorrow. An owl’s ugly voice was heard from a distance, a strong wind -yamo- blew and the trees went punglu pwap, punglu pwap punglu pwap. So the midwife called the child Oyamo Pwap. (Drinks) The village was caught up with mixed emotions. Some mourned Nyadendi’s death while others celebrated the birth of Pwap. Others hung in between mourning and celebration. You could see a smile on one side of the face and a tear rolling down the other cheek.
Pakla my friend, I beg you do no more talking, let us drink kwete to the end of our lives. For if my beautiful Nyadendi could die just like that, I should not live.
No Puklu that is not the spirit that brings forth a man. You must be strong for odds and good, expect twists and turns which shapes our livelihood and appreciate the rises and falls that come with it.
Read more: http://authspot.com/short-stories/punglu-and-pwap/#ixzz1CgZHAeTC
Ehe Pakla,
I have never lied to you, have I?
A A never
So let me tell you about the Kanyading’ding’ people. (Clears his throat) there was this beautiful Nyadendi I have never known her real name, because every time I hear her story, emotions take me off, am carried by the winds to back in the days and at the feet of my greatest grand father I set myself, to be sure that today, I can tell you the same story. So, Puklu, allow me to call her Nyadendi. (A song in praise of Nyadendi, Puklu and Pakla both sing)
Hey! Hey! Pakla, you need some more kwete, and then you promise not to go there, but stay here, until the story is over.
Puklu, I have never said no to busaa. Let me tell you about Nyadendi, she was beautiful.
Must be the most beautiful woman any man has ever even had in his illusions. She was beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. (Drinks’ some busaa from the calabash) she had neither hip-star, nor spa-strap. But she left men staggering wherever she passed. Her breasts were covered in ondakla-banana bark- her waist was adorned in bright caloured beads do you know how they were called? Ah! Puklu, they are called winde. Wi
Nde
Wi
Nde.
Yes, winde. And beneath the winde, she had a round sisal skirt called owalo. I tell you, she was beautiful. On her neck she had tigo. The improvision my sister has named necklace. She had a pronounced gap on her upper jaw. Since these Kanyadin’ding’ people never wanted to leave anything without a name, they called her gap mbanya. Nyadendi Rambanya
Ooh Nyadendi, (a song – chogo min ohero nyadendi yo X2 ayaye nyadendi yo chogo min ohero Nyadendi yo) X2
Puklu, Puklu
Pakla,
Don’t finish the sweet song, before you see the graceful steps of Nyadendi balancing her water pot from the river. Her buttocks swayed in a rhythm that all of us have a tune for in the play ground. But the one Puklu and Pakla love is this
Kabich, Carrot X3
This is the reason, why many men went for amen (wrestling) until the strongest man in the village was found and allowed to marry Nyadendi. (Ululations) it was sigalagala everywhere, because the beautiful Nyadendi had finally found a mate. The village messenger ran to the transmission hill and lit a bon-fire that smoked above and beyond Kanyading’ding’. He sent happy celebration messages to the whole neighborhood and I no time, baskets full of roast meat or should I say aliya and ugali started trickling into the celebration arena. Delicacies like alenya and aluru were brought in plenty. People danced to ohangla tunes till morning and busaa was drunk in plenty. But, strength does not scare away death. Nyadendi’s husband died. Even Nyadendi’s beauty would not keep off tragedy. Puklu, Nyadendi is widowed.
But that does not take away a woman’s beauty, does it?
Puklu, because of this beauty, they say, Nyadendi’s husband died from chira!
He! Chira/
Chira! Nyadendi’s husband was long lilo. Umh, that strong man was impotent
Important?
Impotent.
Impoted
Impotent
Impotent
You got it Puklu. (Snaps his fingers) her husbands condition made her become a creeper, and not being too careful, it gave her husband the fever. The man died childless.
Wooii
But, Nyadendi was pregnant!
Mayie Pakla!
So she could not be inherited before she gave birth. All that could be done at this time was to shave her head. (Takes’ the calabash and returns it down without drinking) everybody watched and waited, for the birth of Nyadendi and Punglu, her secret lover. Nobody was to know, but somebody knew and now, everybody knew and waited. The day came, and nyamrerwa -midwife- was called, she tried, but as Nyadendi pushed and screamed out Punglu’s name, she breathed her last. The baby gave a shrill cry to signal both her birth and sorrow. An owl’s ugly voice was heard from a distance, a strong wind -yamo- blew and the trees went punglu pwap, punglu pwap punglu pwap. So the midwife called the child Oyamo Pwap. (Drinks) The village was caught up with mixed emotions. Some mourned Nyadendi’s death while others celebrated the birth of Pwap. Others hung in between mourning and celebration. You could see a smile on one side of the face and a tear rolling down the other cheek.
Pakla my friend, I beg you do no more talking, let us drink kwete to the end of our lives. For if my beautiful Nyadendi could die just like that, I should not live.
No Puklu that is not the spirit that brings forth a man. You must be strong for odds and good, expect twists and turns which shapes our livelihood and appreciate the rises and falls that come with it.
Read more: http://authspot.com/short-stories/punglu-and-pwap/#ixzz1CgZHAeTC
A WOMAN
A woman is strength of life,
Not just the rib,
She is the back-bone,
She is strength,
Still, so delicate,
A woman holds the smile of life,
She holds things together,
Can console in distress,
And congratulate in success,
To all she is the mother,
A woman is made of virtues of life,
She bears with love,
Her tenderness is nourishing,
Care and understanding, Assuring,
A woman is favourite baby of life,
She needs attention,
She needs to be adored,
She needs to be noticed,
She needs to be happy,
Her tears are salty torrents,
Of pains and ills towards her,
For her children
For her country,
For her land,
For life itself that she is,
A life she wish to change,
To wake up on a new page,
And find gone the rage,
From joy and pains range,
A woman is strength of life
A woman holds the smile of life
A woman is made of virtues of life
A woman is favourite baby of life.
Not just the rib,
She is the back-bone,
She is strength,
Still, so delicate,
A woman holds the smile of life,
She holds things together,
Can console in distress,
And congratulate in success,
To all she is the mother,
A woman is made of virtues of life,
She bears with love,
Her tenderness is nourishing,
Care and understanding, Assuring,
A woman is favourite baby of life,
She needs attention,
She needs to be adored,
She needs to be noticed,
She needs to be happy,
Her tears are salty torrents,
Of pains and ills towards her,
For her children
For her country,
For her land,
For life itself that she is,
A life she wish to change,
To wake up on a new page,
And find gone the rage,
From joy and pains range,
A woman is strength of life
A woman holds the smile of life
A woman is made of virtues of life
A woman is favourite baby of life.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Nothing At All
When I look into your eyes,
I see them reading through me,
I only wonder what you see,
Coz in the same, I see,
But at time its best if I say nothing at all.
The joy you bring in my life,
Has never been through the strife,
Trying but I failed, till I met you,
For once my lips taste real smile,
But at time its best if I say nothing at all.
In the chill of dawn,
And the silence of dark,
You are in my mind reminding me,
That, my smile still count.
But at time its best if I say nothing at all.
Handled like a brittle glass,
Delicate in need of love,
Care and understanding,
Through tests of time together,
But at time its best if I say nothing at all.
When there is nothing at all,
Getting through my lips,
My heart beckons yours,
In a warming and calming embrace,
Because at time its best to say nothing at all.
I see them reading through me,
I only wonder what you see,
Coz in the same, I see,
But at time its best if I say nothing at all.
The joy you bring in my life,
Has never been through the strife,
Trying but I failed, till I met you,
For once my lips taste real smile,
But at time its best if I say nothing at all.
In the chill of dawn,
And the silence of dark,
You are in my mind reminding me,
That, my smile still count.
But at time its best if I say nothing at all.
Handled like a brittle glass,
Delicate in need of love,
Care and understanding,
Through tests of time together,
But at time its best if I say nothing at all.
When there is nothing at all,
Getting through my lips,
My heart beckons yours,
In a warming and calming embrace,
Because at time its best to say nothing at all.
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