Sakwa Franc

It Wasn\'t Love

It was on the  eve of valentine\'s day

When the bread of love became stale

An our nest was no longer fitting us

 

Love had grown wings

Ready to fly from its perching tree

With only hope of landing on mountain top

 

She sat cross-legged on the floor

In a sullen mood

She cussed my name

 

Fantasy became her world

Her mind detached from reality of life

She dreamt floating in air

 

Our love ran parallel

But not so when we fell in love

When we touched, kissed, and...

 

I first  saw her face in a mirror

In a barber\'s shop where I sat

Her smile ignited my lips to play fair...

 

To be continued.