From The Cup Of Love Poem by Ekwueme Kelechi

If drumming is the food of love
Beat on
Beat it tirelessly
And suffer not its cry to cease

I've heard tales of love
I've seen victims of its venom
But today, I tell the tale of love
Who has caught me in her webs

If love is the skin of your lips
Let mine remain stuck to yours
And my years of service be to it
I knew the sting of love
The very first day I caught your sight

Your eyes have made me
The obstinate housefly who followed a corpse to the grave
In my heart has a banquet been prepared
To welcome the fragrance of your presence

I'm like the man who fell down
In hot pursuit of a fowl
In the quest to protect your natural fruit
From the touch of the jealous sun

Hey! Usom, tomb me in the skills of your waist
Shake that fruitful tree
That thy fruits may rejoice with pride
Twenty years of my service
I give to worship them

For the sake of your skin
I will follow you always
To chase away every fly
From trespassing

For the smile that emits from you
I will worship it
The way the cherubs worship God
Like the twenty-four elders will I fall daily before it

I will sing my own version of the heavenly songs
It shall be a lullaby of love
Even in bed, I will stand beside you
To whisper them to your heart

For you, I will peacefully lose my sanity
I've lost my identity

(c)EKWUEME KC