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Tone: 48 hours

No matter the weather
We never buckle;
Rolling together
Like tyres on bicycle.

Everyday, for centuries
We communicate in blitz;
When we wake as we flip
And before we go to sleep.

I still do not know
How she lost her phone,
I have been a crumbling tower
For over forty eight hours.

I truly miss her so badly…
And not hearing from her
Has really been so ugly
Turning thick ice to fire,

Burning deep all anew
Thus bringing forth
Yearns with a lot to chew…
In a mix of love and fright.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

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