Will it rain soon?
Did the trumpet sound?
Will those flower bloom?
Did the contract stand?
From six feet below the ground
Surely, those questions are not grand
Days ago they would;
When above she stood
She didn’t live while she was bloke
Or dream while she’ll wake
Now,ever dreaming with no hope
Dancing on a sprung floor,fishing in the lake
May be by all she will be hailed
But she’s long gone,following the lost horse tail
Salam Tiwistar Seun
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.