March 1987 Poem by Sicelo Sithole

The morning glitters with sparks of my forever born through, as the waves of change make way and pass me by
The noon is clear and blossoms of metaphors, melodies, poetry and black prose from my good silent eye
The night is cold though, it sweeps with gentle breeze and cease all the symphony of the night...And I ask why?
The midnights hold and lighten up a new world to my black imagination and to my free soul that forever cry!
All the days born from this are a true reflection of my future ability, a complete new life, it is March 1987
And my heart forever waits for you, my true world of innocence and my sweet serene zeal of old heaven!