Yusof

I am given a day to sail on but,
I am scattered in the lustrous blue-black attacks of my identity;
But, who has a complaint about me?
And like seeing my eyes off the two golden-brown gloves,
For the swollen fawn moon came about;
And those little red ones with a cream on are for Yusof.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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