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Chapter 2 The Juggler The resounding crash still haunted his thoughts. The loud clatter and silent sighs of relief. Five had rolled and he had been chosen.
As the Sun peeps through the veil of night, And the chorus of a morning sings a prelude to the day, The boy awakes, and gathers up the tools of a hunters way.
The flowers woven into her long ginger hair. The delicate fabrics of her dress flair. Her beautiful skin soft and fair. One has no choice but to stop and stare.
Waiting for lust, There you peered, Waiting in the willows.. Agamemnon lead me to your throne... Take me, seduce me Let me be your future queen... Reveal yourself to me and only me.
Softenened focus, the points are blank. The causal of death sunk deep in flank. Hands this slow they move the best, As the soft of green, lay the animal's rest.
Gravel crunches underfoot as the two boys gradually, deliberately, make their way up the mound of stones to the building.
Copyright Ⓒ 2012 Christopher Patrick Kirk all rights reserved Laughter crept in as the Nguni were settled and accounted for. They had water and maize.