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 </div><p></p>Beneath the heat of the dancing feet,<br>
I hear the voice of one calling<br>
I hear it far away<br>
So far away<br>
That I knew it was so close to my heart.
<p>I hear the sound<br>
A tiny little frightening sound,<br>
So strong but so tender<br>
Like that of a singing sea wave<br>
That made path through the crowd to see<br>
And tearing open the melodious heart of a loving mother.</p>
<p>I hear the chanting of a song<br>
Whose rhythm appease the curious ears of an already born deaf old dancer<br>
And employing the feet of a lame to rock<br>
If only I was a dancer,<br>
My feet would have created a circle like a carnival.<br>
And since I couldn’t sing as well, this song of a voice shall stale in my heart forever.</p>
<p>Now that the wind is still<br>
And the moon is full<br>
the stars refuse to lie fair<br>
And all is still again<br>
I wish for a sound,<br>
that same old rhythmic sound!<br>
If only I can hear that melancholic screeching sound of no retreat</p>
<p>That sound that only draws closer to love that hate!<br>
That sound that soothing the passion of pain even while memories are fresh!<br>
That sound of affection!<br>
That sound of attention!<br>
That sound of expression!<br>
That voice of echoes of a crying child that draws the total love of a mother to her child once again!<br>
That screeching but tender voice of a crying baby.<br>
That cry of love.</p>
<p><a href="http://poetry.wrr.ng/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/THE-CHILD-by-Saidu-Mark-Jatau.jpg"><img class="alignnone wp-image-16497 " src="http://poetry.wrr.ng/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/THE-CHILD-by-Saidu-Mark-Jatau.jpg" alt="" width="1186" height="767" loading="lazy"></a></p>
 
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 Saidu Mark Jatau </a>
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