The Dark
Clouds turns black,
not plain nor blank
In that dark,
I looked up to the sky
Saw the glittering stars,
Not any out of sight
Noble they all look,
Every tick they spark.
Twinkle, twinkle
They all hail their moon
When in place,
No one cause them to mute
Fashion of their light,
makes me amuse
Even when dim,
Men trust their booth.
Little I have seen,
Take it for a sample
Many hung dreams,
No more hope to handle
Stars that strives in struggles,
Called it hustle
Is it blacks haunting whites,
The road we should paddle?
Copyright © Precious Adebanke | Year Posted 2019
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