A unit is nothing short of oneness in its endeavor.
Living our truth, though blacked out and the sun already set I can see shade.
I graze with my own two eyes, as I gaze aimlessly wondering what if in another I was.
A meal like kangaroo as the plates are bounced from me to the next, gaucking in salivation awaiting the remnants.
A tailor patched up Sunday best, a struggle is where I belonged.
“Once upon a time” but that’s a constant to me that seem to change for others.
A day will come
Sir. George Githunguri
© Mar 2018