Treasure In A Slum. Poem by Monkals Kalu

In a whiffy slum
She lies comely,
Looking careworn.

Such treasure
In a grimy bin
Dozing off like
A weary traveller.

Even as the midday sun
Casts its harsh ray on her
Languid face, she remains
Still a beauty in a grody hole.

Nothing about
Life enthuses
Her, nothing at all!
Not in that fetid slum.

She's smiled through the
Heat of the hottest furnace
Laughed through the heaviest
Of rains with raging thunderstorm.

With all she's
Been through,
She remains strong
In her stinky cubicle.

No one cares about her troubles,
Neither is any man interested in
Her solemn peace. Unfortunately!
Yet, in their heads, her nudity plays
Sensual jazz like Yanni's "Nostalgia".
Cos they desire pleasure more than
They yearn for Treasure In A Slum.