By Ms Jheri
Voicemail. I hear my worst fear, trans-
forming me to a sonneteer.
Take to this paper with a pen.
Purple paper waits to be spent.
Duck on water seeking some bread,
my beak just seeks the food ahead.
Smoke on water under umbre-
lla, drops fall still I wait on fella.
It is the red rag to my bull,
ying to my yang, sunshine in rain.
Vibration I feel. Is it real?
All day I waited for the deal.
I’m in the sky flying with trains,
on the ground sliding with the planes.