The Disease. Poem by Otieno Albert

I went cycling,
in a land so brightening,
its beauty so presenting and touch so appealing.

But came back running
in a coffing so daring
and its reality beckoning.

I thought i was swimming,
little did i know i was sinking
the malady consuming
the little i had for living.

It was a bliss
full of whizz and gliss
but now am on my knees
in pain writhing
with all but my frame of bones.

Thence, as i see you cycling,
or crave to cycle, to you i warn:
keep vigil and still.
Beware of vices, that may tatter you to ashes.
Dont be cheated.
There is nothing like peddles, for when you slip the saddle,
you remain susceptible to AIDS! !