The Author Died
Just this morning, my pen mourn
And drifted into slumber
I saw shadows and dusts
Babies in the pool of regrets
Anarchy in the wombs of women
There they stoop and stood
Lowering his dust and shadows
To father-earth
In the agony of his eternal adventure
Our bones wept
Just this morning the author died.
Copyright © Kingsley Awoh | Year Posted 2011
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