Written by: awoh kingsley awoh

Perhaps is was a dream
Perhaps it was my mind soaring
All alone, as I prune the garden
Wind colliding, sparrows whispering
Ravens wooing
Echoes of beasts’ bleating
The ceaseless stream screaming
As the sunset settled at the center
Of the sacred tree
Armies of joy escaping from nipple of my thoughts
For the apple is sumptuous
In the region of my dreams
I dreamt that I dreamt
Gazing at the flowers whose beauty was azure in nature
The jasmine trees so enthralled and absorbing
The oak trees so rapt
A holy war stood still in the garden
I wept, I wept, and I wept
Gabriel was on errand, Lucifer was asleep
Suddenly, the oak began to wither
Only the jasmine survive
It was actually a dream I had at 3.45am in Eden

awoh awoh