Poem Hunter
(1965 / Abor, Volta Region, Ghana)


these pale cold days
away from comfort’s arms
leaves these wild eyes yearning
beneath melancholy’s brows

like waif the spirit gropes
for a touch in the pools of love
like one that is long dead
buried behind shrouds of dust
yet with living eyes still opened

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Comments (1)

I wonder whether 'waif-like' rather than 'like waif' would complement the opening line second stanza - anyway, regardless of which, this is still a fabulous poem! Rgds, Ivan