knock, knock

Illusive love,

why can so many not find you;

despite the world revolving around you,

plenty fail to recognise you.

The lucky few smile as they tell

how they discovered you;

at the pub, on the internet.

Over the last newspaper;

at the corner shop.

Smiling back;

I can only daydream about my moment.

Till then, I wait;

temporarily amused

by passing impostors.

© Cleopatra Chipo Kuuya 2005

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