Hold You Poem by Thabani Khumalo

Before we get old too on our bodies
and totally meaningless on our feeble minds -
before we get very weary of old age and die,
I want to hold you in my tattooed arms -
while they are still as strong as tools of steel -
like a soldier holding his arm on the day
when the land is torn - topsy turvy - of war.

I want to look into your glaring eyes
from the brightest day into the darkest night,
to the point where the lunar sky would see
that first gleam of dawn shining ever brighter to the fullness of day.
I want taste the osculate of your lip
and go on to lavish all of me in all of you.