On the horizon you are nothing but a sliver.
You surprise me with your curves
your bounty.
As I catch on your wide, toothy lips
you make me falter.
I swerve to caress your contour
but you still catch my rim.
You make me hesitate.
At times you are so vast, you grip my entirety.
At times you are so fruitful, you shake my mentality.
I wish you to be filled, for the road ahead
to be vacant,
And yet you smile every time you cause me
to bite my lip and stutter.
Africa might move ahead in its economy
were it not for you.
Potholes.
No comments:
Post a Comment