She Sits a Voided Soul
The night brims with the white of moon
She sits a voided soul, bereft of his love.
Hearing the solo of the first cricket,
Her eyes water and solitude endlessly flows.
She sits a voided soul, bereft of his love
Holding against breast, her necklace of rope
Her eyes water and solitude endlessly flows,
She realises that her beauty could not save her
Holding against breast, her necklace of rope
Hearing the solo of the first cricket
She has realises that her beauty could not save her
The night brims with the white of moon
11/06/17
Poem Type : PANTOUM
Copyright © Kunda Chamatete | Year Posted 2017
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