:::::: The Celebration Of A Hero::::::
With a throng of grins the day was born,
The hearts danced for another is here with glee.
It came with joy,
That proceeds from the pleasantries of men to women,
They smile with coy.
As they watch the blood of bulls spill to earth and murder hen.
It is born, yes! Another is.
With sulking young for fresh attire,
It now is,
Even as the delicacies spring fresh steam from fire.
With the celebration of a hero, it came,
Drums rolled for its sake.
As the world enjoyed proclaiming his name,
That's all we did to partake.
Now the day is old,
We ate with gusto all it offered,
As we watched it unfold,
With hands open like loafers.
Alas! It's laid to rest,
Yet another in days will be born from its death.
Comments about this poem (:::::: The Celebration Of A Hero:::::: by Desmond Okon )
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