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Late afternoon in Harare
Beaven Tapureta
February 02, 2006

It's raining in my mind, pouring
Wishes which will never be horses
It's raining jazz music downstairs
At the New Book House I hear voices raining in the corridors
Chaining themselves
To the ghosts of fear
It's raining outside
In the streets it's raining poverty Family budgets dwindling
Yet no decisions
No love
No sense!

*Beaven Tapureta is a member of the Budding Writers Association of Zimbabwe

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