Babafemi Yinka Olubodun Poet Classicism

Letter To Arwen - Iv

Myths, legends, lores, mystify the velvet
Red milk of grief flows around my hut.
The chariot beckons me home, 
Its speed; light knows! 
I linger onto the Eagle velvet
Shall I walk in the desert? 
Bear this cold for long? 

This chariot; a patient rider, 
Awaits me on the banks of the Mississippi, 
I battle my gain for the velvet, 
The chariot; a good one
Eagle velvet; a sibyl
The sibyl, my Arwen.

My wet loin; a fine tunic,
I wander to wonder the velvet
Authority regained! Home, home, the chariot
Through the Eiffel tower; 
Down the banks of Thames,
Into the Nile. 

Shall I say it be a dream? 
Vision or trance? I bemoan
Yet, it let's me down! 
I wait gladly for its return...

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