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The Poet's Vigil
In the quiet corners of his own mind,
he walks alone,
a poet whose pen drips with moonlight.
He counts the hours by the hum of his thoughts,
each one a lantern swinging in the wind.
A thinker —
he weighs the weight of names,
dreams of the laughter not yet born,
imagines a tiny hand curling around his own.
In solitude,
he builds worlds of words,
hoping one day a child will wander in,
pick a flower from his sentences,
and plant it in their own heart.
The waiting is a long horizon,
but he watches,
because even a lone soul
knows the fire is not for himself alone.
Copyright ©
Adeyemi Adeeso
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