It's About My Experience With A Lonely Cripple. Poem by Joseph Ikhenoba

It's About My Experience With A Lonely Cripple.

THE CRIPPLE

I saw a ruffled bird along a path

Where I often cruise to have my bath

Crippled with oozing sore all night

Staring at the sun for might.

Beside her lie torn garments and plates.

I guess she uses them to beg till eight

I am whispering about eight at night.

She was lonely, like a sloth

No straws or logs to build a hut.

"May be the universe was against her? "

I thought.

Though, I wanted to glare into her heart

To know how she felt

But I felt it's white to mind myself.

Then, I poked a silvery coin into her bowl

While she bursts in a kindled growl.

And, in her crystal balls, blue oceans unfold.

Does the Galapagos Finch have to chirp?

Before we learn to help?

Well, I guess it doesn't.

It starts from a drop

Before a table top.

It's About My Experience With A Lonely Cripple.
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