When am the
Iroko tree.
I stand tall
and firm like the tree
Birds of the air,
on my branch they perch
With authority,
none dare not dispatch
My trunk, an
ailment it can cure
With valour,
my trunk they seek to secure.
Surrounded by
water and life it lend
Divine power
from the gods to savage
Amidst my
kind, am a dread sage
Like water, my
wisdom they thirst to drink
They suck
relentlessly till they are drunk.
Like an Iroko,
stability I represent amidst my kindreds
Leaves forming
to shelter them in their hundreds
The fallen of
an Iroko tremendously startles the forest
With my
demise, sets in a sweet bitter frost
A philanthropist
unborn to the world
I will be if
only am an Iroko tree. . .
Precious Chioma (Sacred Tess)
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