I’d visited Frankfurt to meet up with a poet I have only known through social media, yet has been like a brother for several years. This was the 3rd and final poem from my writing session.
Eyes of giants are wandering.
Aviators reflecting on the ground.
Beauty seems skin tight,
Fashionistas mix colours yet can’t do it with skin type
Flowing locks and optics box tick.
I just can’t with the lens being pedalled.
A fresh breeze invades the mood.
To settle the stomach, I engage with windbreakers and stone masons.
I was a fool for lane love ignoring the map.
The cupboard love from Venus is the most fly of traps.
It’s time to switch the raps, worship and praise at new altars.
Maybe you will…..for the sake of our true calling.