A Virgin's Honour - Poem by Olamide Adebayo
Forgive your years(ears) to convey my song to the mind,
But should a line elude you,
I will scour the bushes, and return when again I find,
You need not marry a feet to a ground
That will; with time, wipe off its memory,
Rather beat me the drum, to buy them on a platform of unending history,
Let me your arm, as I thread it into mine,
To mesh with an omen that all will be fine,
Tell me to the cliff side,
And you will but cry to smile; as into the clock ahead, we take a stride,
Even for the rock pronounce our name,
Slay it an evidence! , my pleas were never lame.
Yes! , your colorants are nitty,
But I crate them rather archaic to spruce that
Which I call 'your beauty',
Lie to me of your past,
And into the ashcan, I will cast,
Never should you bell your sensation an undercover,
For that only, will gnaw at my putter.
Doctors might be caused to cut, mend; repair,
Should they to our love, it would cap me in despair,
Even lawyers might be hired to question, defend, appeal,
Should they to our emotions, we would be lone at the end,
Writers might be locked to ponder, uncover; pen,
But should they to our intense sensation, we will forever be read.
I will be saved to be egged in your den,
And always, I will tame you with my pen.
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