Slow and steady wins the race,
but who gets to dictate the pace?
Better yet, drop me the time and place
to go and fill this space.
Said I love you to no reply,
just brushed it off
like waving bye.
Should’ve known you were stopping by,
checking in with no intentions of staying.
It’s my heart you were playing
but my emotions were saying
“Give it time, she’ll come around
not everyone is easily love bound”.
Slow and steady wins the race.
In our case, she dictated pace,
at her beck and call I showed up
to fill her space.
Gaping holes in mine,
going deeper
leaving memories as my only recall of treasure,
feeling milked for pleasure
as I seek greener pastures
in hope they’ll end my deification
of one who was never meant to stay more than one night.
A fast fall but days drag
so on long ones I crashed into love
at snail’s pace.
Tell my settler her pedestal is slipping.
If she doesn’t move fast,
she’ll hit the ground
faster than my heart clung to hers.
A creative storyteller who strives to put a mirror up to South Africa. Who believes that the more we see ourselves for who we are, the more likely we are to treat each other with more humility. Over the years, he’s done this through various mediums, from short films and adverts to published poetry and short stories.