momento

I do not want to come so close,

I writhe to move away

My baobab tree, my prickly rose

This marry month of May

But you who are supposed to care

Will never let me be;

Perched atop your high backed chair

Your endless tyranny.

Your chestnut mane,

Your melting eyes

from sinners to the sick

All of us you mesmerised

with your flippant Aramic.

But I won't be taken in my lord,

Young as I may be,

I shall fight your grasp with

brain or sword

Back to my baobab tree.

Suddenly you let me go

and suddenly I'm free

The breeze stops rustling where I stand

'neath the Frangipani tree.

But then I see I am not free,

why you're gloating in your stand

I can only now weep silently

Nail imprints on my hand.

---------------------------------------hia....