Christian Tobechukwu Okafor
Letter To My Rose (Part E)
Just like the thickened clouds,
My heart is clouded with tears
Ceaselessly bleeding from pain
No morphine could e’er comfort.
Oh, not even my bruised knees,
Not even my tear-torn eyes,
Not even my little gods,
Could save my frail sore spirit.
Ne’er will I cease from trying
To pluck back my charming rose
Cause bee stings only good turn
With the sweetness of the honey.
Your desire sets me afire:
My head aflame, my soles baked,
As I stare into your eyes,
Dazzling life flooding me o’er.
All night I pray to the moon
To grant me just one more life
To give you all the roses
I failed to give in the past.
So, let me your hand, dear Rose,
Smell your rosy scent all night
Drink your lovely kisses to dawn
Till we become one spirit.
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