When on my pillow I lay my head
Processing a thousand thoughts, a billion dreams
Sifting through loaves of bread
Gratitude sprouts and my mouth screams.
When in my office I award grades
For assignments scribbled in a chicken handwriting
Wrath chokes my throat to discard tirades
That my eyes hurt, what a fluffy feeling.
When on my lap Mike plays and stays
Joy deploys into my heart in every part
I stroke Mike who prays
For my sanity everywhere to dart.
When in my town poverty hits my eyes
Sorrow sips into my mind and I wonder if copper
Serves any purpose in Zambian skies
When a widow or an orphan becomes a no hoper.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem