Aspiration
ASPIRATION
See him evolve as a
tender shoot
There springs morn’s
dew upon his head
From his foot that’s
the root, a spring
runs
That always keeps
his mind a verdant
field.
His focus down the
horizon extends
To cultivate a field
between the poles
And to reap his
labours up to the
ages
With his crops piled
high-up the cloud
But the storm flood
and sunlight sap;
Blight and weed
wreak impediments
And fettered his
mind with
distractions
As time lay a value
test of his
persistence!
Copyright © Itsoghole O Solomon | Year Posted 2014
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