By Mathew Takwi
If I could love only a little,
I would not tear an angelic foetus
And dump into a pit.
If I could love only a little,
I would not wangle away village cowries
Into my secret elephant closet.
If I could love only a little,
I would not squeeze dossier of a direct Shakespeare tongue
And stretch out that of only a tortoise Voltaire.
If I could love only a little,
I would not employ valley brethren only,
And jerk nose at hilltop pedigree.
If I could love only a little,
I would not pass the leafy she, who calmed my libido;
And fail the rock steadfast merited.
If I could love only a little,
I would not endorse contracts uncontracted
Neatly wrapped in greasy giggling envelopes.
If I could love only a little,
I would not embrace sects
And spite saintly saving words.
If I could love only a little,
I would not tongue twist colleague's name
To mount employer's ladder.
If I could love only a little,
No bazooka would rumble
No limps would roll,
But only a dove's spread wings,
Will unroll in the sky.
If I could love only a little,
I will slightly right the wrongs in a glee,
And moon the dark clouds of human vicinity,
Like full bloom pink rose,
In green, green orchard.
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