"Uniting creative writers to unite the world; forging letters into golden words". - Moses S. Olarotimi
Thursday, 17 January 2013
A NIGHT BEFORE HARMATTAN
I sat, i watched..
The sorrowing wind groveling by-
slowly slowly; i sat, by my fiery friend, my torch..
As murmuring leaves stuttered a goodbye
Mumbling from side to side
While farewel is bade; to a weather sweat and mild..
The grasses, they danced a slow tune-
Crooned by the wind..
I sat, i watched.. My witness was the moon
'Tis a doleful welcome ceremony
Fit for the coming tyrant-
my pity, for these greens; they'l soon be frail and browny-
And pale, and dormant..
OH brook and loft watered stream!
Hurry now, crave the hands of mother-sea
The coming man is harsh and thirsty; ne'er gleam'
Warm wind, find a frock of sweater
Quickly, quickly- ere you turn cold..
'Tubers- tubers', tell the farmer..
Swift comes his foe, from timings old..
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