My fondness of you
Or rather my affection for
You like a river, meanders
And wanders solo through
The streets of Soweto.

Through the streets of
Jo’burg to KwaMashu
Without reaching its
Intended destination.

You, there, at the Orange River
Are free, free and indifferent
Of my distress and despair,
A distress from repulsion
Despair from your inattentiveness.

Between Jo’burg and Newcastle,
Betwixt Newcastle and Durban.
Now between Jo’burg and Bloemfontein
Lies two souls, one longing,
Longing for the other.

Of late, overcast the clouds have been
No hope of any reciprocity.
No hope of a hearing ear.
An ear to hear my proposal,
Or nostril to smell my
Vegetable proposition.

It’s always darkest before dawn
And when clouds gather,
We anticipate rains.
Rains that will wash away dusts,
Rains that will bring about life

These rains will one day fill
This wandering river,
These rains will one day shower the earth
Strong and hard enough
That the meandering soul,
Solitary and longing as is
Will arrive like an ocean wave

A compelling wave coming to
Trip you off the ground forcefully
And carry you to your supposed half,
Towards your significant other.

Till that happens, breathe
And blossom in the City of Roses.
Till that happens, flourish
And gather outer thorns to
Blanket you against
the undesirable climate
there to conserve your innate
Hard-to-crack-nut soul.

A triple cheese decker is not as filling
When eaten in your absentia.