To Christaina - Poem by Ebi Robert
'Edere ede a bu Christaina k'edeere ya.
Obu ukwe edeere naani ya'
They say Friendship is for the mature.
And Love the tablet sent to cure,
Every distress from the curse of nature.
Simply a symbol, a product from God.
She say I do not care
That I am not there when am needed.
But I know I do
For if I show it, I may be taken for a fool.
Friendship is defined when it solely spells the future.
Frienship is wise when the heart lose the fight.
Friendship is pure when the quarrel is once and for all.
Frienship is fun when there is teasing, laughing for sure.
The future is spelt when I say 'shut up' you do not know it for sure.
Life can be tricky and funny at times and its warehouse a store of all oblivion.
Our friendship is wise when she say 'sorry' with hidden coyness while both of us play the 'MAN'
Ours is pure when I carelessly hit her jaw
and in pureness now we talk.
Ours is fun when I am the most ugliest and shortes man in our class.
Friendship is for the advice when floging my siblings heed a reverse.
Again is for the advice when I learn to argue less even as a law student.
Do you know who i write of?
Do you know who i scroll for?
I will tell you..
She is the lemon dew that vanishes with the sun.
Her voice is as soft as a thousand sound moving from a lemon grass.
She is the Napoleon of my animal farm.
The treasure that burns with my desire.
She is my sunlight, a wife material.
She is as fair as my mother, only that she is not fat.
She is the sunset in my heart
and the moonwaves in my cloud.
She is the Angel in my dreams, the frangrance in my cream.
She is the perfume on my sleeves, the highness of my queens.
She is the dolphin that drives through the current of the sea.
She is the different music that loud out my radio, the pleasant sound that dresses my morning with sweet sleep loosing careless through a thousand note of million eyes.
Once i saw her sang in a concert,
Her voice just sharp sounding brass.
She is the bud that freshes my heart.
The heartbeat of my heart
The coy bird of my secret cage,
the steward of my age.
The wind that blows in my forest.
the green leaves in my forest.
the blaze in my golden garden.
The star that drives me to my cloud.
The star that keeps a flash
blazing even while she's gone.
Her name is Christaina Osuigwe.
she is My best friend.
I am a poet in your frienship store.
created to adore you my fairly one.
From head to toe she is gold
not indecent like Mrs IMO.
she is priceless of great value
My darling princess as I told you.
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