18 And 1 Poem by priscah Mutswenje

I was only 18 and 1, when she trusted my guidance
Teacher, I have a problem and only you I chance
Inexperienced but willing I thrust my energy for once
Listening and listing lots of challenges in her puns
Too hard to tell where they began and stopped


AlI I really wanted was to give it all to someone
Someone worth the world's cure in such a turn
Of the good acts and appreciation of the stern scan
That had guarded my youths and let me safely churn
Into adulthood mature and responsible



So I pulled my stool and down we sat to talk
We had walked as she shares matters that choke
They she looked at me and smiled a speck of shock
Caught up my chest as she makes a queer joke
Your hair looks sweet m'am, would you...

I was lost of words, like a criminal suddenly trapped
This innocent face was not just in need words well framed
but prompt action to save her from the morals polluted
By the likes of Chiloba and others in her lot of confused
Yet determined to prove a point