Brook as it is.
For its virtue be lissome
Whilst snakes slither and hiss
Its fragrant aroma extols
Beneath the periwig
Dry season whispers cogently
Chasing the flowers from its twig
Here I am in the field
Of coppice woods
My love for him yields
Nothing than goods
With a trivial tag
Kiss returns wrath
It bags a hail of fists
Dearth of fondness
Falling impatiently
On this frail Rose
With no place to hastily hide
With no remorse
He jabs after a jib
Till my jaws fracture
Whilst nursing my rib
He smoke from a pipe
Of cultural perception
Our old etiquette is yet to ripen
I am fated for deception
For my feminity was bought
I am my husband’s property
Only until wit comes to thought
Will he let me, alone to cry
Its stem stands patiently dry
As the rainy season whispers
Tears from his crocodile cry
Flow down his cheek
Our ring lies kindly on the chest drawer
Repentance pouring from the pores
Of his fangs, battered and scorned
I stood like the stem of the Rose
As dry season fails to obtain
My burial rights
I stand on my rightful stand
Strong as I am like Rose
On a rainy season
I will blossom, pose
Beautiful as I reason
Indeed enough is enough
Treat me like a dove
My heart is priceless dough
Stop a beat, give me love
Written by: Rabelani Tshidino
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
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