As the sun sets on the Nairobi day,
She puts on her make up,
Orange yellow hues, head to toe.
Walking towards her Nairobi night,
Humming along to the blare of matatu horns,
Smiling at their graffiti clad sides,
Dancing as she dips and turns by speeding cars,
She throws her arms around him in an endless embrace,
Kisses him in a beautiful way,
And he smiles, and starts to laugh,
Together they are the backdrop of the playing beggar’s children,
They are the scene of the friends hugging each other at the bus stop,
They are the canvas for the couple chancing a kiss in the open,
They are the chorus that rises with the sound of laughter,
They are the caress on the skin of barely clad whores!
They are the tune that drunks drawl along to,
They are the distraction for crafty pickpockets hiding in the alley ways,
They are the companions of the few, who rush home,
They are the lovers who lay in each others arms until the Nairobi morning.
Amare Poeta
So much alluded, so little spoken indirectly, such a finely knitted fabric; poem.
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