Songs Of The Dead Read Count : 17

Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A
My father threw away the towel
he said that it's enough.

he couldn't hold the pain and the misery 
that tortures him everyday.
so he decided to kick the bucket

his final bed calling him to sleep 
and so he did , went to sleep to his bed
a bed made of brown blocks.

his body that young 
like a moon at night 

and now my father 
wears the heavy soil in his chest
covers himself with a soft  blanket 

© Asenathi Makhanya


  • Nov 27, 2020

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