O’ Abronoma


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My dear Abronoma
the reason for my breath
the half breath of me
your beautiful soul
gleams the photographs
of your golden feathers
you left whiles perching
on the broken branch of my heart

If doves could daze the trapper
and faint him under the maize plantation
curing him with a feed on his maize
with showers of rains
breaking the jaws of his trap
to let you fly and sing no more dirge
then, unto your humming voice
O’ Abronoma
I shall swing my heart
and embrace the beauty of your feathers

Th tree in the forest looks calmer
as you perch by and fly
breathing life into dried leaves
I part not your feet Abronoma
nor do I paint your doom at my door
instead I watch your beautiful face
from the beaming face of the still waters

Come, O’ beautiful soul
feed from the honey
I harvested from the beeland last night
and sweetened to 5000 emotions
by the sweat under my calloused palms

The Village Thinker © 2014

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