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

My Lune

if loving her unthinkable things happen
like we see in Harlem then living
in Harlem unthinkable things
could happen in the backyard of love
think of a beautiful ballerina
dancer twirling weaving your name
with a juice snaking coiling cascading
with a dagger to your name beats it hard
everybody in funky beat rock shock

and the dance goes on and on and the
music silver shines with the moon and the
dance and the dancers go on and on with the
silver moon high up away from the world

if loving her unthinkable things happen
remember when rain falls on thatch roof
raindrops drip into pans looking dark clean
like glass opaque they light nose-tips of
travelers lightning the long paths ahead

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Comments (1)

I really enjoyed thiis light to your Lune Padmore. I think the last line would be stronger without the repeat of traveler's but you leave a beautiful impression, however you choose to end it. Another beautiful poem, thanks for sharing her light, Smiling at you, Tai