By Tikum Mbah Azonga
I saw her walk past
She raced up the road
Not down, as you guys think
Her blue umbrella in her right hand
And her black handbag slung over her shoulder
She looked gorgeous in her rastas
And her irresistible, tight-fitting jeans.
The flag was not at half mast
And I managed to put together this very odd ode
All that while, our neighbor`s wife looked at me with a wink
Without an elegy or a country churchyard brand
I don`t believe in canon fodder
Although seven days a week, I can eat Italian pastas.
That`s why if she asks what I want, I`ll shout: “Beans!”