The Son of a Widow
I talk within the frame of my thought, I eat within frame of my ability, I
go to school within the call of education
The language in the streets enshroud me to the shoulder of a singer
The crack of my feet on the ground with my feet stamps signed the effects of
the long journey I have been taking
The road to success is a slopping, but I managed eclipsed it with total
focus
I remember the boulevard roads from the day one I smelled the wind in my
world
I never give such thought to talk star. I poet the lines with the sound of
personification
I built my thought to mountains of Trembling fingers with curled hair
I living in my imagination, I wasn't dare to be distracted from the ponder
of education
The looks of the lemon salivates my tongue, to the brewed of coffee in the
morning
I'm addicted to my thought, Um! Um! he groans within wisdom in his calories
He ditch to flinch the fog through the trash that tall his ambition
Mum middle her kids, while dad sleeping in his shallow box where no amount
wealth can will him to salvation like King Solomon
I couldn't understand, why my dad dug hole so early to helm the rim of his
kids behind with single mum at the edge of wearing the gown of
responsibilities upon that tiny brain
The kids crippled with no option except opting in towns and cities wanting
to dribble remittances to the wooden house under the boulder
He lynches the hurdles from his Oceans of struggling like boiling water in
the morning
His ideas met with pain but his smile shall dwell in heaven
As fate is weapon designed to fight poverty within the frame of my thought,
it will rain with prosperity.
The frosh of imagination is the fruit of my labor where I coined the truth with colorful look.
Copyright © Mohamed Manzur Bah | Year Posted 2017
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