The Escapades

THE DIARY OF A COVID-19 WALKER

Part 107 “The Escapades“

When Sir Thomas Moore was torn,

Between the King and the Church,

In England, that Island in the far lands,

Man, he said is a severest judge,

Of his or her own soul,

Like Saul turning into Paul,

Beyond human faulty lines of life and love..

As Paul locks up to Sumanya,

To marry or not to marry,

That is the question

Love is emotions gone crazy,

It raises dust during rains

And rains while it is dusty,

Unfulfilled love kills

Like an arrow in the neck ,

A queen or king on the ship

deck,

It rocks havoc like a double-edged

Poisoned sword,

In the womb!

It was on Christmas Eve,

When they met ever, and mate over,

As they prayed together like never ever..

The girl with along neck, stretching hair Over her shoulder,

Like shouldering none a yonder ..

Years got over,

Before he could get over her,

Love appeared lost on him and her,

Here, in this COVID green Valley..

Moving via Nakalele road,

I met an old man moving swiftly,

Like a Swift bus coach on a corner,

Holy Maria,

I gasped,

As he ran like an antelope,

In Kidepo valley

In my village, in the years of 70’s and 80’s

This qualified as a wizard

,

A night dancer

practicing his gig,

Unlike today…

Day dancing is glory,

A health watch worry,

Or a do to keep up the do,

When she again says, I will do!

It is hot and bright sunny

As sweet sweat ran down the backe,

With Barbs out pacing in her Nike!

Must I keep the pace?

Come on, it is 2022,

The year of escapades!

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