You, with your supple and brown leather
I, with my gaze fixed on my father’s pocket
You, peeking out from its corner like a
Child playing hide and seek in a desolate ally
I, like the kidnapper, keeping an eye on your
Fragile movements, waiting for you to stumble
Into a dark corner and into my sinister embrace
So that I could get my ransom inside you, the
Little green strips of paper you contained
Toys, chocolates and kites my father wouldn’t get me.
You, with your expensive sheen, attracting me
To yourself like a gold ring attracting an eagle
Only to disappear as soon as my father left
For work and you, containing an enigmatic exchange
For little candies the definition of bliss to six year old me.
I, with my naïve mind thinking why I would get less
Candies and goodies when you would be frail
And devoid of those thin green leaves.
You, in the possession of my elder brother now
I, eight year old me, wondering if your gauntness
Made my father a dear departed.
You, I didn’t unravel the enigma of your long
Green leaves until I was thirteen and you
Resided in the back pocket of the Khaki trousers
My brother used to wear,
Now Tattered just like your old unkempt skin.
Dear Old Wallet, my dead father’s wallet
I liked you better when you were fat and fit,
Supple and shiny, brimming with coins and green leaves.
And when I  was unaware, little and innocent thinking
You were a miracle for I only wanted toys back then
only to realize I need a lot more
For I am now cold,  fatherless and bankrupt
But you are empty and thin, just like my
Dying mother.

Like painted frogs upon a tree
I feel the poison leak from me
I do not gamble as a rule
But with that hope may disagree

I chained the gauntness, kept the beast
Until it felt at home, at least
When it snarls I shiver less
When it bites I let it feast

Show me more of ******* sap
Sticky, but this honey trap
Is quickly eaten up by me
To venom I’m a porous wrap

It comes, it goes
The gale force blows
But poison’s fickle
The tree frog knows.

We'd thought the war was over
The major battle and
All the petty skirmishes
We'd seen the dead and wounded
The hollow eyes of our peoples
The gauntness of those who remained
What good was land won
If there were none left to play in it?

New agreements were forged
Treaties signed and hands clasped
Our homes were being built again
Each brick laid with hope
Each structure erected faithfully
Laughter sounded in the fields
None were hungry or left in the cold
It was peace, hard won, well deserved.

And yet in our midst you'd waited
Lain quietly in your sheep's wool
Quietly sharpening your weapons
And dripping your poison in the right ears
In the light of day you hid in plain sight
Biding your time and counting the days
Waiting for the greater victory
Of toppling a flourishing city.

I hope your knives are sharp
For when they're turned on you
I hope your aim is true
For we won't miss our shot
I hope your words seemed sweet
So your defeat is all the more bitter
I hope you remember this last breath
Because we have been pushed past mercy.