Time honored capsule
moments of yore -
shades of experiences
refined or raw .
shallow ripples of morning dew;
milk of the honey comb -
sweet summer breeze ,bid you are-
not like hard frozen cod
that stinks when thawed.
Oh that our hearts may find in you
a blanket warm , and all of life's
felicities within you tucked.
And when melancholic strains sustain
a whiff of jasmine be though nigh
to purge the soul of festering sighs.
Yet once upon a doleful moon
it may just suit the fretful hand
that you , like debris be swept afar -
or discarded like weary driftwood
upon the heaping sands of time .
But for posterity,please stick around
like an heirloom bible or iron pot -
a looking glass , a picture frame or
a fetish egg within the kindred fold .
By
Hope Kalé Ewusi ©
No comments:
Post a Comment