Church bell tolls, tolls everywhere
Chaotic movement here and there
Stumbles, rumbles and grumbles; queer
Metallic sounds of the heart
...
She never asked for a dime
Nor did she for my time
She never envied other's diamonds
She kept the pact; broke no bonds
...
The voice in me
Is no more
Tragic as never before
Leaving me
...
When it comes to it
I would, about the eloquence
Of your speech, write
And the sparkles in your smile
...
On Ghana Television some seventeen years ago
I was aged probably four or so
Each while Mandela will come and go
The song Freedom Is Coming Tomorrow
...
I write this not for a king, a knight
Nor for the few elite of these times
It may not, I truly fear, seem right
I do not intend to find herein rhymes
...
Nothing is changed
Everything is the same
The way you look into my eyes
Still consumes my entire being
...
A lot is changed
Nothing is the same
I whispered your name
To the eastward winds
...
Nothing is changed
After half the years
I had lived before
Is come and gone
...
By and by our days glide away
And I can no longer hear or say
Can no longer see or envisage
Love dwindles with each passage
...