By Awuol Gabriel Arok, Juba, South Sudan
She has stolen my heart!
But not a thief;
I was alone in the pit of darkness;
Then she came and begged my golden heart, I kept quiet
But later I saw her with my heart;
There lay my heart in a pool of blood!
There lay a well-shaped organ of the young gentle boy!
She split my heart in my present; I cried
She laughed loudly and sharply,
She smeared some blood from my heart onto her face.
She moved;
And I followed her; for she took my heart;
Our journey was not an ordinary one;
We moved uphill-downhill, highlands-lowlands, highways-paths;
And city town-slums,
Once more and the last step was to her well-charmed house.
On turning in the door,
We were welcomed by the freshen air of her house;
I was happy; forgetting to ask my stolen heart;
I went not to court, she called and I went.
I got great reward for my stolen heart!
And for sure I was not bribed.
The author is reachable on jjmkamzeearokson@yahoo.com
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