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?