The playful rustle of mischievous leaves –
lounging about the streets, restlessly
on benches and sidewalks.
Giggling in the ticklish breeze.
The once green and pure and tame,
the once well-behaved young blooms
obediently cultivated in their arbour balconies.
The young daughters, lovely and restrained who
their fathers’ care and painted themselves with rouge,
frolicking in the night
kept warm by the glow of streetlights.
Their alluring gold radiance attracts
gazes, flirtations, declarations of love.
Careless interludes drenched in moonshine.
And they rustle on, and whisper to each other and forget.
Abandoned alleys echo, littered with scattered remnants of their mischief –
quiet now, in the frigid morning air.
The excitement exhausted, the flitting and dancing
their bodies heavy with dewy sweat
laced with mere memories
Wild hues paints the skies
as the sun bows to the stars
Orange teasings with red
purple playing with blue
A canvas bursting with
colors full of life!
strange and innocent
wild and indomitable
for He saved the best for last!
as if teasing the City of Lights
Will you ever see me again?
Right….. the Niger-Area celebrates 55 years since the British succeeded in bunching up it different people.
Today my beloved country turns fifty five.
Most people still wish they weren’t alive.
I understand that, cause they fear for their lives.
They do not want to be part of the ultimate price.
What price am I talking about?
Danger springing everywhere like sprouts.
Calling everyone to CLEAR OUT-
-OF THIS GOD-FORSAKEN LAND we shout.
But this land is still home.
The land where we survive on the rich loam.
The land where we are free to roam.
The land where we listen to tales of the evening gloam.
The land that is filled with hope.
The land where we rather cope,
Than put our heads in the rope.
The land where we need not elope,
To some foreign land to go sell some dope.
Arise compatriots O’ Arise.
Lets obey Nigeria’s call with our rise.
And serve our fatherland likewise.
Because today our beloved country has joined…
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