A Morning Of June

A quiet morning of June,
The sun rose with a miracle.
The arrival of baby Jude,
Oh, and his smile was a spectacle.

This tiny new person was a blessing,
The beauty his parents had been missing.
His coming changed everything,
So, of course, he was a precious thing.

‘Tis another quiet morning of June,
A momentous one for Jude.
The boy has grown to be a flower,
Watered by his Maker's shower.

From his third floor of life,
With a smile, he looks back at life.
Without all glory in the race,
He has little worry - it is grace.

A race not without pain,
In his pursuit of the grains of gain.
‘Tis like a calling, difficult to chalk,
But he refuses to talk the walk.

An erratic race for this go-getter,
Is the price he pays to be better.
And so, to young Africans is this letter,
Since dreaming is free, be a pacesetter.

My Crush

Slowly down the street I walk
That morning on the sidewalk
My eyes fixed on her elastic stalk
As she twirled onto the catwalk.

My eyeballs swell in disbelief!
Swiftly,
My mind chalks an impression
In absolute compliance
To curry favours of passion
Without a blink at variance.

Instantly,
Like a thrush
I whistled at my crush
But felt the adrenaline rush.

From sunshine to eventide
I admired,
Her glow as colours of the yuletide
Not tired,
Until a lad swept my chance as the tide
And woe betide.

Insecure

I see you celebrate when I fall
Like you're more meritorious of the call
That you jubilate and not worry at all.
Is it not all the more curious that you stand tall?

Why do you hold me in thrall?

You are flourishing like a flower
On the lavish hallways of power
And still, you want me lower
As I walk to the tower.

Is your ultimate killer, to empower?

You're unique, Chevalier!
Stop being beastlier
When I shine like a chandelier
My goal isn't to be saintlier.

Is it time to feel a kinship, Cavalier?