that day I'll leave.

You will miss me, that day I'll leave;

to the world yonder-

to where only stories are told: of wild honey

and milk that rains.

You will miss my unrhymed dances;

like leaves against the whirl wind

that sways to the blow- against their will

to break a trunk that crys fatigued.

Like birds of the air, memories will fly away

paving for life a new way-

but to my rhythm casting a cloud,

laced with tantrums of forgetfulness.

On that day, unwatered roses will wither-

yielding to the anger of the scorching sun.

Bunguswa Writes.