She’s a forget me not –
a surprise letter by mail.
At midnight hands wander,
each roving a fiery of joy
whispering silent secrets
debauchery bears witness to:
“Boy, no one lights up my nights like you!”

Her tender hands are twice as skilful
her lips warm and sweet –
my bulk caressed from head to toe.
She wept with joy, ecstatic tears –
I told her in my nave and pure heart:
“Be my bride. I’ll be your groom, not a live-in lover.”


But declaring on impulse such unbound emotion
was a wrap, a ripple, a ripe apart,
she is a freewill song – an artistic hue
an ocean beyond my shore,
but what do I know of her kind?
I am just a poor lil ole country boy.

© Ugo Nkwoala | TheVillageGong | 2021

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