The centipede coils
When the stick pokes
The stick wanting to see its length
The centipede wanting that in wraps
He pokes,
It coils,
He pokes,
She coils
The sun watches in anguish
Seeing fun flee from their encounter
Time laughs at their clumsiness
The sun closes its eyes
And leaves them to the scare of darkness
The next morning,
The sun opens its eyes to see centipede gone
And the stick standing alone
With the breeze laughing and teasing
“Oh, boy, if only time is flexible,
Or the future is a television,
The static and the creepy could fix their differences
And be together by now”
The sun thinks.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014
Mum Cee 