Details |
Olalere Ibrahim Poem
I will hold my pen to sleep
When the day comes with no words for poetry
I will dream of our infant voices
as mother warns us to quit the dashes
Yet we will run into to the kitchen
Hiding and seeking
Happy and smiling
That I may wake with a forgetful feeling
Of when you came at me
Dressed in the warm skimpy memories
When we played childishly
I shall dream of our happy screams
Even if they are now of dusty voices
A paper, a pen; both ready
I shall finally map out this wording;
"I dreamt of our infant voices
As mother warned us to quit the dashes
Yet,we ran into the kitchen
Hiding and seeking,
Happy and smiling"
Copyright © Olalere Ibrahim | Year Posted 2016
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Details |
Olalere Ibrahim Poem
This little thing that
i am thinking,
just won't leave my
mind.
Thoughts of a
thousand miles,
where she dwells
without me.
This little thing that
i am thinking,
could make me cry.
Copyright © Olalere Ibrahim | Year Posted 2014
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