Lesson as a child is an inborn
It's of course right in the bone.
Like the early privilege souls:
Shakespeare, Yeast and Milton.
They are the history of years that sings in me.
Come down to Africa
Not only did their poetry sings
Some note to my possession
Likewise, their marbles, trebles and puzzles
Contributes to my endless pride.
The lake, the sky... and the sun
Are equally positive gestures
That muse my spirit for verse.
Pen will not sleep off my physical and mental surroundings-
My Bloods, my peers, faith, media and society
They are toast tools that deliver me from fits.