The Sunday Mail
As he bounced me on the court
I assured him of a win
If he handled me right
If he swung me well
He didn’t need teaching, we bonded
I couldn’t wait for the games
To show the world how he conquered
To gracefully be tossed around
To gladly show his skills.
Then suddenly, he lost form
He became careless, like I did not matter
He passed me to the opponent
I was thrown out of the court,
In walls, bushes, in roads
I lost my shine, the air in me
I could not breathe
He did not care, he did not bother himself
Wasn’t he supposed to refill me?
After bouncing to his tune for this long
Wasn’t that something I deserved from him?
No, that’s not what I got
He loved another, I was forgotten to rot
He bought a younger, shinier version of me
He now reassured another
And for him, the cycle goes on.
The writer, Nicole Kane, is a University of South Africa Law Student
Students, send your articles, pictures, poetry, art . . . to Charles Mushinga at [email protected] or [email protected] or follow Charles Mushinga on Facebook or @charlesmushinga on Twitter. You can also post articles to The Sunday Mail Bridge, PO Box 396, Harare or call 0772936678.
