The methuselah shoplifter

It was a hot humid evening
When the sun relentlessly kept shining
Reluctant to drown in the horizon
And the clouds nowhere to be seen

As I strolled around Mukuyu town
I gazed at this or watched that scene
I overheard gossips of women
And avidly watched games of children

Staring at the passersby
I saw this man with a head very baldy
So aged yet straight as a candle
Carrying an air of someone in trouble

His head slim, eyes bushy
Nose projectile, cheeks bony
A wide mouth with jagged teeth
His look! Oh my! Will leave you in mirth!

His clothes tattered and worn
Will give you an image of a being
Born in poverty, bred in famine
Wallowing in misery fate-hewn!

A guttural scream rent the air
Like a shriek by a toddler
The old man jumped with scare
And took off fast like a wild hare

The bunch of bananas under his arm
Were in a vice grip, away from harm
The old woman who had screamed
Tottered after him with a shaky stride

That’s the last I glimpsed
Of the Methuselah shoplifter
Through his features so vivid
Of him I shall always remember

© GIDRAF MWANGI