Confident, village belle
I had chosen silence, a quiet ‘death’,
He will not hear my trembling voice
A stolen glance
Upon his tall form
I stand transfixed yet
Like a ribbed reed mat were being slowly
Pulled from under my feet
His deep voice sends ripples down my spine
I struggle to keep my poise
Not even my mother’s schooling
On matters of the heart
Immunized me against
This indescribable feeling
My heart echoing the canons of
World War undated
Yet without a sound
Breathless, confused, light-headed
I reach for the nearest blade of grass
And it I torture between my fingers
To absorb this unexplained turmoil
Just a simple greeting reduced me to this
He must not know, I resolve but
I look up our eyes meet and
He reads it all
I am betrayed.
©Alexandra Kukunda 2015


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