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Two Over A Dozen
Two over a dozen-
Those digits that make a fortnight-in that second month,
But today, the sky was grey-
Mirror reflection of the discordant heart-
The angry gale hitting against the pane of my window-
As I looked thro’ the hazy mist- deep in thought
Red everywhere, love petals; in bouquets,
Which I cannot smell- not today
Sweet product of cocoa melts on the sensuous tongue,
Which I cannot taste- not today
Black satin complementing red silk over seductive curves,
Which I cannot touch- not today
Hushed tones, whispered words-words from Venus,
Which I cannot speak- not today
For, Cupid missed…
poem
by
Aseso Omollo
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