I have strolled into that inn countless times
On some unfortunate occasions
A dark cold deserted chamber
Whitewashed walls shrouding themselves together
Deep rumble of eager basses emanating from shadowy rooms
Sharp jutting aches from sitting on stale armchairs
Parched throat, panting veins, salivary gulps
Those old bulbs dried up all the mist
The sentry at the entrance an exact image of a scamp
Albeit less fiercer than the pound-pounder at the counter
I don’t know what attracts droves into that airless inn
Always I had to stand in an inevitable long wait
Till I became weary enough to faint
Once you’re nearly enveloped in sleep
The ever-hollering hotelier hands you a bunch of rusty keys
Which are of no use through your drowsy eyelids
Meals are such unwelcome thoughts
There’s nothing at all to serve
So I just slump down the door beam
And have a supper-studded dream.
Read – Overlooked – A Poem by Bilat Chebochok, Kenya
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