The beautiful colors I see, as the sun shines in my eyes, will also grey
Then these poems will carry on, the rare smile will dwell in the deep of calls
I know I’ll die too, like the other dusts down in that clay crust
My breaths will ooze the nostrils no more then
For the journey time, truly I know not
But it is certain my ears will boost the soil’s diet
The winds will fan the lilies that roll side to side in my reception
Green will seem the clouds above me then, for I shall be sheepish no more
As the wings of death lead my way to the air
Peace will engulf me; pain will free me
Then, on robes sparkling in saint I’ll ride
The sweet in honey will burn
My nails will isolate the glue that kissed it faithfully
The soul shall ring at its home abroad; it will beckon louder
But upon the stools at his smile I pray to sit
Upon the gleams of settee, upon a shoulder so true
Upon warm place I hope to reside
Written by: Goodnews Mememugh Karibo
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
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