Nancy-ing

swirling there chanting and softly swaying
in the braided wailing of brisk grey mornings
is the haunting mumbling of a little prayer
wondering and nervously waiting
in the wrinkled curling of wilting petals
a simple and singular taste here begging
to dance the moist winds of warm billows
in the dry and parched lips of lonely echos
a quiet melodious humming drumming
and carefully musing on
across forever

Copyright © 1993 Asili Ya Nadhiri

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