Tuesday, 3 November 2015


In a tuxedo, all dressed in the words i say,
talk is cheap not even attention would pay,
singing in the shower, awarded in dreams,
dirty chest, even more dirtier than it seems.

The pal in mirrors, drowned him at the sink,
wrote this with warm blood, turned into ink,
am not Santa, but i'll be down your chimney,
swallowing my pride, don't wanna be skinny.

loved to swim but i would drown in my tears,
love is so sweet, getting diabetic, worst fears,
am a tortoise, slow yet always closer to home,
East or West, my old back, carries my home!

Poetry collection
"Dressed In Words"
~Andrew Mwalasha

No comments:

Post a Comment


Gone are the days that you'd rest your head on my chest and smell the scent of my ripe goosebumps, those days that I would lose count o...