Yesterday is a story of love, a story of war

Of my deep-seated affection for

And my battle with desires, Lord

Yesterday is when I used my pen

To write words, not hope

Yesterday is when my heart pumped blood, not love

When my feet trod roads, not dreams

Yesterday is the awakening of fresh coffee as it grazed my senses

And the romance of red wine as it kissed my lips

It is the red dress that caressed my body

The sassiness it gave my step and the swing it gave my hips

Yesterday is when my fingers interlocked with … Mine

And rested on my right thigh

The wind whispered to me sweet nothings

And I smiled – at something in the sweetness of nothing

Yesterday is my clock ticking backwards

To dark days and bright nights

To weakness, to regret and to pain

To strength, contentment and great gain

Yesterday is in my hand

I want to wrap it in a paper box then set it on fire and watch it burn …

Still, yesterday is where I close my eyes to find rest

At every turn

By Hauwa S. Machunga

For a chance to have your poem featured on Poets’ Thursday, hit the ‘How to submit’ button on the menu tab above.

Words Are Work … and fun too!