Stella

The mortar is not yet dried up but,
The pistol is still hanging up in the air!
For your life is between sleep and walking.
Oh Stella!
How long should i be without you?
The sweets from Africa and the sweets from my home,
With no manicure, pedicure or 'pencilcure'.
Oh Stella!
Your love is all that i do have now because,
The beautiful ones are not yet born.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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