In Paris Poem by Jacob Kobina Ayiah Mensah
In Paris
I remember now.
How our beings,
so little bin, are
for the world
to fill our souls
with rubblish, I am
never used before.
Because I have
stayed upstairs
all my life, I am
here today in the street
as a stammer
in the wind. Now
leftover behind glasses.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
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4/18/2024 11:04:04 PM # 1.0.0.1119
