The Renegade

She met a Renegade on this
ride going north.
His reckless soul has no leash, belonging to no one, not even himself.

I met my Renegade at
a dinner party.
I tried wooing her.
To woo a Renegade,
I must be of all and of none,
a lover of all shades of colors.

Her Renegade is predictable,
but only in his unpredictability.
My Renegade seduce the attention
of all and holds none of their glances.

by Tola Fola Olowolafe

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Comments (1)

A nice poetic imagination, Tola. Thank you very much,