Horn Of My Love Poem by Wafula p'Khisa

When my lover blows his horn
It tears through the air with a resounding tune of an ancient imperial trumpet
My mother's pot falls off my steady head
and I tear down my father's gate, to run into his blissful arms.

Yesternight he blew it in our village
and roused all women from their deepest sleep
They deserted their darlings, and tiptoed out of their matrimonial beds
for a moment with him in the arena
My lover's appealing, like ripe guavas on the side of a busy road;
Everybody thirsts to suck his juicy seeds!

When I hear the sound of my lover's horn
My heart races fast, as if competing for a medal in the Olympics;
Ushering me into the past, via the nostalgic window of memory
Time hadn't gone out of joint, prices were fair
food aplenty, and people kind, very kind.

I've attuned my ears to the enchanting song of the sea
and the chattering of seagulls on a refined day
But none outmatches my lover's magic horn
it breathes life deep into me, urging every part of me
to burst into flames of desire- for my love.