Maureen Alikor Poems

Is it the warmth of his hands,
or the tender steps he takes?
...

Far from home,
on an island;
stories that touch abound,
national service it is,
...

See her in stitches,
see her limping with crutches;
her stitches are sewn here and there,
her pains,
...

Alone.
It may be boring.
Alone.
It may be tiring.
...

We carry a burden,
it is weighty,
it is burdensome.
We wish;
...

Mouthful,
lips shuts,
the wide grin.
That deceptive curve.
...

If
you were to be
what you wished
what would it be?
...

I walked
and walked.
I grew weary in
walking
...

My legs
knotted in ties
refuse to walk
this journey of hate
...