My Dream, My Diary Poem by Buyunde Acura Sylivester

My dream, my diary,
Art of writing more about,
You and me.
Like yesterdream,
I dreamt terribly,
Like death, probably,
And I woke up in sweats.

You see that road to Maraba,
Where u stay,
Just ahead of K.F.A, office,
(Kenya Farmers' Association) ,
Yes, that was,
The scene for, my diary,
The place of dream.

I was with your foe,
Conney, you know,
Then there was a massive,
Very deep grave,
Dug across that very road.

And or maybe we had,
Null choices to find way.
Either Turn back, or fly.
We had to jump across,
But it was too wide

I saw a man jump,
Though in a stamp,
But with total ease,
And a sort of tease,
Upon us.

When we tried,
Small was our stride,
And we had to toggle,
Into the grave now.

We struggle, we struggle!
To climb up the ditch,
Then I saw you screaming,
Speed and running, coming,
Full to brim of mercy.
Despite a bulge of pregnancy,
You ran to save my life.
Then in you, I saw a wife.

My complicated dream,
Made me dread,
I thought I was dead.
I wrote this as my diary.