xer-files
Monday, February 06, 2006
  Raining jazz
Late afternoon in Harare

It’s raining in my mind, pouring
Wishes, which will never be horses
It’s raining jazz music downstairs
At the New Book House
I hear voices raining in the corridors
Chaining themselves
To the ghosts of fear
It’s raining outside
In the streets it’s raining poverty
Family budgets dwindling
Yet no decisions
No love
No sense!

by Beaven Tapureta

published by the Budding Writers of Zimbabwe Association

 
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