Homeward Bound
Hovering over the Lonesome Plane,
My spit a solace for a thirst,
Comes the razing Shines-Feet and Ghost hostily entrailed.
Will I Somehow,Someday My rest acclaim?
Right in the Jungle the scary Soul.
Thick and thin my back like a Machete steers;
Rumblings and Chanting my stillness sped,
Slipping through the Crystals of the Clefts;
Highs and Lows the Slimes My Footsteps shove,
Seems my bloods I descry.
Rustlings and Bangings seem friendlier;
Barks and hustles the clearer way prove;
Nearer now,the tunes clearly sung,
Warmest the applauds that bid My widest thrills.
Copyright © Matthew Oladele.O | Year Posted 2015
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