We; torn between names--lovers, friends--,
bonded by silence, of tied tongues,
sustained by imagination, of you and me,
wallowing in oceans of love, leaping forward
for a ship, to set sail our relationship,
to a destination unknown; despised by
on-lookers as cheap, like oblivious to them,
we sing, it's sweeter than fried potato chips,
as we roll in love--calling on each
other, when one is falling, forgiving our
wrongs, and forging ahead with our strengths.
Frances Simwinga writes poetry that springs from wells of life experiences that he stumbles into, over space and time, crisscrossing a variety of themes.