There is a feeling that stands
between my pen and you
it comes to me like a scent
a fragrance engulfing me
there is a pleasantness
hard to resist.
Its usual warmth is a glow
that rises from my soul
and slowly spreads around
tingling and tickling every pore
though it starts with an itch
more like a thirst
a sweet sensation that water
would refuse to quench.
Is it a craving of some sort
that always leaves a bruised spot
that has a promised excitement
it always makes me want to smile
But annoying when it stands
between me and my quill.
Maikudi Sambo
EDITOR’S NOTE
Originally published in Citizen on 31 Aug 1992, p. 48. This diplomatic transcription preserves the wording and lineation verified against the archived page.