It was pure cunning,
So easily, it was stolen,
So hard, a heart cries, broken…
The seemingly little things,
Those tingly sweet-nothings;
Oh, how suddenly they fell scarce,
And all turned into farce.
Little by little,
Now and then,
Slowly but surely,
Trickling so steadily,
All dripped away,
As water from cracked clay…
What can be salvaged?
Sodden salt?
All is damaged,
At whose fault?
Swift it came,
Now gone; another name…
Yes, Time changed Yesterday,
Surely, Time will change Tomorrow,
The Sun peeps into my day,
Slowly and surely, it lightens my heart’s sorrow,
The moon and Stars rule the night,
Gradually, I rise in joy and might,
Like the eagle, I’ll soar,
Like the Lioness, I roar.
“…Let my whispers in your ears fall,
It may soon be curtain call!”
Written by: Chino Ibe
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
