Her Time
HER TIME
ill- dated she thought
ill-humored her birth brought
ill-omened her race
ill-starred her pace.
Through thick hide
Though beffudled
Hard-boiled she remained
Her bright future is imminent.
Ineluctable is her fate
Bridled by unknown
Blithe she ever has been
Awaiting a pleasant futurity.
An Ijeoma Ikonne's poem © 2021
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