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To the rescue
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Love in its rarest form To the rescue
The wind whispers to my ears
I can sense her safety longing tears
Stealthily I listen Iike a sound deer
My own love is left alone in fear
The leaves rustle to her echoing cries
She waits for her one lover to come in disguise
I start preparing for the ultimate exercise
She just can't afford to get my last goodbyes
Darkness overcomes shadows
The demising love scene narrows
She starts to question the hallows
But I have no answer to these quarrels
Finding her caught up in the snare of the beast
I draw out my sword like a soldier about to feast
Pounding on it with a mighty gentle fist
I'm glad she realises I'm worth being a priest.
BY Winston Chikowero
