Nay, you cannot stand its gaze.
But you can trust it my son,
To shine bright and sometimes blaze.
Search ye the stars?
All day long they dot the sky,
Invisible though in day hours,
At dusk, ‘twinkle twinkle’ they wink from high.
Find thee the moon?
In eight phases it does appear;
A smile, in full, in gloom,
And in people it rears feeling that differ.
Whatever dost thou seek?
You may just find,
And sometimes take a stick,
To your restless behind.
meet the poet: Chino Ibe
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.