8

Written by: Freddy Nyezi

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Eight

Days until tomorrow is today.

Don’t get to the airport too late.

Thank you for always being my date

To every fete. Thank you for fate.

Now I wait for my phone to ring with an update,

Or the buzzer to call at the gate.

It’s my mate wanting to procreate,

No debate, just dilate.

Plant some seeds and germinate.

Just a joke for those who don’t tolerate.

For this week and a day, we are separate.

So all I can do is just fascinate and reiterate

And stay up late, in wait.

I’m agitated.

8 feels like forever,

But I’ll see you soon.