Dear Poets
Don't eat off the tips of your pens
tomorrow they might earn you a living
Don’t play with your pieces
Tomorrow they might start working
Don’t clean any of your lines
Tomorrow they might save a life
Poets are gods
They grow old like the earth
Indelibly,
There works live like the cloud
“I created myself”
Dedicated to Mariah
Angelo. Deid may
2014.
Copyright © Nurudeen Olaniran | Year Posted 2014
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