Incomplete By Gonsalves Mpili and Isaac Ngassa
Literature, PoetryIn wine there’s truth,
She’s wine that makes my heart drunk,
That bottle imprisoned her,
Took an opener to unleash the wine,
Wine changed the air to colour red,
Then I was stuck and my heart found faint,
Even sipping was difficult,
How can I sway this fair wine? Should I drink and dine,
Or should I cry and smile,
I wish I could begin in the vine,
Still wine changed in the name of time,
This wine that conquered my heart,
This wine that resisted my lips,
This wine that poisoned my blood,
This wine that betrayed my thoughts,
Is now six feet under and laid to rest with me in one coffin,
The coffin is floating in the air called love,
I promised I’ll make love to her not even on a bed,
Our love without all senses not dead,
That’s a yes if my lips draw attention on your forehead,
She’s wine that wasn’t hand made,
A sip of her in my throat won’t make me a nerd,
She’s wine that will turn my no to a yes with that I’ll wed,
Don’t call us a couple we’ve named ourselves a herd,
Love is blind we closed our eyes,
Without wine I’m a selfish drunkard defined as incomplete.