Bunguswa Writes.

Crickets incessantly whispered through the night- In hashed tones, tired of lone long night.  Night tenderly embraced darkness, And gently strode; lazily, unconcerned, arm in arm, Through to chills of a frowning morning. The skies still cried, And tears tore through the dense dark blanket. Birds mumbled in their nests Unable to bask in the morning glory- That oft° beckoned an expectant day. We'd cursed and troubled deaf heavens so long, And now ears were a heaven's blessing, But blind like a day time bat.  No more smiles It trickled on Tears of the sun. © Bunguswa ™

It had blossomed; with affection and attention it bloomed, like a sunflower in a rainy winter, that laughs and smiles at the rising sun, So was my love, But Minerva brought me tears. Like a midnight moon on a clear sky: that defies loneliness in absence of the stars, to shine upon carefree trees so was my love- strong like the giant village tree, But Minerva brought me tears. My love was a rose devoid of a thorn a rose that lit faces of those with a gentle touch; and it rose against the scorching sun, that once threatened our existence. An epitome of resilience our love was But Minerva brought me tears. Upon Minerva's tears we inter our love, deep under the red mound of sadness, memories bitter like a desert shrub, that craves for the morning dew, but to a reward of sand storms- thus, as my eyes redden at the salty flow, so will my ashes rest in the common urn. © Bunguswa ™