My Busy Mistress Poem by Sheku Feika

To my busy mistress,
Sunrise, sunset,
My presence
Is like a tyre to the village child
But a mere case at your chamber
Which you can't wait to dismiss as a waste.
To my busy mistress,
High-heels can't see dawn among others
But under your command as they scramble...
At dusk, heels tired, and skirt not making the morning noise
With teeth holding the 'hello' in your mouth as they're dead with fatigue.
To my busy mistress,
This is not a fantasy
'cause enstasis knocks to question
Rescindment which it can't see
And reincarnation you can't mention.
To my busy mistress,
Breakfast can't knock at my morning door
As the traffic and you will be battling for who to go first.
The morning birds can't match your footsteps
'cause the clock is married to your eyes,
Every second it strikes, twinkle you are.
To my busy mistress,
Wait!
Wait a minute!
Check the clock: everything is paused
Let the mattress marry the outer you.
Let the world's mind render you a rest
Let the high-heels and tired skirts breathe a sense of relief for their country service.
Let the traffic see not today you.
Let this Monday morning breeze swing pass your beautiful hair in our world on our field.
Let glory be to this day for not seeing your dazzling face.
Just in case, my busy mistress might not be in haste,
But...
To my busy mistress,
I rest my case.