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Poetry: Ours

By Nomuzi Ncube

This life we live,
pretends to be ours;
while it's borrowed.
One ends in a black hole,
Six feet under the surface.
It was never ours

Sorry to say this,
It's not ours?
When we cliche jaws,
Save a lifetime of sorrow;
tear muscles  and is it a gain?
Love, acceptance and hatred !
And sorry it's not ours.

If it was, it could have received us on a platter
A bungle of joy;
And a fountain of honey and milk.


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