A
canvas high and felt traced tips
With
background broad and tint azure
None
posed in space with limbs being clipped
The
sketch of liberty one saw
When
pillars then in holes are tucked
Sore
eyes in Gaya’s comfort seek
While
plumes of sentiment are plucked
Love
lingers on in love’s mystique
Time
let the warble low to swoop
And
beak like marble gloss to shine
Thoughts
flicker on life’s endless stoep
In
tandem with the sun that mimes
That morn when words and wheels are
cleansed
Found
true and veiled in mortal condensed.
Thabiso Nkoana©2013-04-22
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