Some Battle

She has fought strongly,
She has fought gallantly,
She has fought with courage,
She has fought with a determination,
It has been her battle,
A personal battle,
What a battle…

But every morning,
Whenever she stares,
At herself in the mirror,
And sees,
The first hints,
Of the crow’s feet,
In the eyes,
The faint traces,
Of graying hair,
The faint suggestion of wrinkles,
She intimately knows,
That old age,
Is a brutal battle,
A battle she can’t win,
And she has to give way,
To the passage of time.
What a battle…

© Ayoub Mzee Mzima

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Dawn.

Dawn comes,
Bit by bit and methodically.
She gently blows the night’s vestigies away.
In their place, she places the early sun’s soft golden rays.
A new day has just been born.
An eager heart is gladdened.
Blooming daffodils, lilacs and geraniums unfurls and embraces the morning’s freshness.
The flowers dot a dotting garden.
A butterfly, flies our hopes higher.
A Sunbird waxes lyrics of blessings to its creator.
We are together in this happy union.
Deep inside, certain goodness overflows to the brim of a soul.
Its a new day.
It will be a good day.
Certainly, it has dawned on us,
That a miracle has been performed.
What a dawn.

© Ayoub Mzee 2012

Morning Again

When the light is solid and brighter,
the morning has found us.

Again we know the morning,
With it’s cache of fresh promises.

Morning mists claim tender wetness,
but easy languor prisons the body in the bed.

Vestiges of a distant night counter with a fading jig,
a night best spent.

It’s morning again.
What a gain.

If dreams were words,
Then we would have held some conversation with the moon,
then she would have known our secrets.

No holding back because the sun
has kissed our pain away.

It’s a new start.
It’s a new day.

It’s morning again.