Furnace of ice
You could see the dusk in her eyes,
as she spoke the dialect of twilight,
she saw eyes of a shadow,
and yet fascinated with the novelistic guy within her,
did not show it
There he stood, eyes of a shadow,
black as suspense,
I'm sure to all her friends,
her optical sunrise of handsome men
had sank as a titanic of impertinent ignorance
Her heart was Romeo-wrecked,
by intentional departures of shady men,
wrecking balls to the skyscrapers of women,
but deep within her soul,
an aged sun rose to see this new visitor
of her world,
her spirit reached and lounged on the
cherry radiation of his cherry words
but she shifted her face to a faint oblivion,
while her curious eyes, persistently dragged
her heart to that direction
Now the man,
obviously cute,
staunchly handsome,
stood there firm, like a mortice chisel,
making holes in the wood of hopelessness,
hoping the one, would show up,
little did he know
that there existed a secret tourist of his soul,
who desired an eternal tour of it
and this tourist was swooned by his
few, rosy, demonstrative words
Alas, they collided at a bridge of fate,
and the woman, still trying to betray
the wind that swept her feet,
and the air she now breathed,
was shaking with uncertainty
The man, however,
eyes of the shadow,
saw a light
and his days sparkled upon it,
there would be no more emotional nights
in his life, ever!
caught in a moment of pricky intrigue,
they surged upon each other
and kissed
and loved,
in a wilderness,
forever, eternal.
By Kakraba Afful
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