Babatunde Esho

The idle hands, crave a flair
To make possessions of thin air;
To knead smoothness, from craggy edges.
And makes undone tasks become pledges.
...

Offsprings not consenting, heaven still chooses.
And picks a womb that never refuses.
As a maiden's request for a child,
Meets heavenly courts with smiles
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I ‘m snatched from a crowd,
That teemed of others so loud.
I take a short look back,
Rueful of what I might lack.
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The morning air, the freshest of all,
The chirping birds, the melodious of all.
Dews form on lawns and the sky paints blue.
But then life asks for its just dues.
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One firm handshake,
Makes encircling walls break.
One strand of a feeble bond grows.
And the twirling others follow so slow.
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My rear is lined with battles won,
I sigh of relief, and face another one.
Within dwells a warring duo,
Faith and fear, tugging to and fro
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It happened when we hurtled on,
Up and about, living, breathing and holding.
Tales of woe from a far away land: they mourned, we watched.
And the stories continued; of bravery, of sacrifice.
...