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That she loved 10 and 1 before him,
or that her lips belonged to 10 and 1 before him,
did not take a morsel of sadness from him;
like Oliver demanding more,
like Oliver never receiving more,
He still dreamed and prostrated and loved,
And never received back,
Except for the morsels of course;
'thank you darling' in afterthought mail or,
'Hello honey on chance evening meeting.
These like a pair of new shoes in my childhood,
were enough to send him into a flurry of activity,
and straight to the chopping board,
to cook her a meal(or perhaps bake a cake):
of rhythm and rhyme,
of lyric and limmerick.
For her he lay down a carpet of words,
flowers of verse;
scented with prose,
and the declaration of undying love,
even if she had been with 10 and 1 before him.
On this carpet she now walks(0r perhaps flies) ,
into the arms of 10 and 2 lovers,
And not a piece left for him,
Except for the morsels of course.
Dickson Wasake
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