In My Pocket Poem by Merlin Mwaura

Dry leaves in my pocket,
dry this tears from my socket,
falling from trees t'is my progress
wanting some quiet in a moment.
There are places I go,
pick peblles from the low,
carry them in my pocket.

Cold soft stone in my pocket,
little white letter in my pocket,
take this paper, paint the sunset...
watch as the ants contest,
lay down here with leaves in my pocket,
forget all my worries for this moment,
while I sleep in nature's pocket.

Phone ring, vibrate in my pocket...
missed call - messages,
shall I take it?
call this creature, I call girlfriend.
tell her of a ring in my pocket.

quick scribble of this earth set,
take some soil an' in my locket,
save this time, and placeful moment...
call this place my park tell moment.

Take this dry leaves from my pocket,
make me lie here at the door step,
wait here for this God sent,
show my hearty torrent...
save her strand of hair in my pocket.

In my pocket,
lie many a treasure,
mine an' many I am met with vigor,
while a live hand in my pocket,
saved my lovely moments.