Love Is Dew Poem by Oluwole Olawale Michael

The dew is drzzling
Driving near to my painted laps
Soliloquizing the song of my ancients' lyrics
My heart wouldn't salient the truth
It is a functional fact to proffer
Why would she allow her tears?
Would it be that drum of an odd drummer?
Will she allow her breath along?
What an acumen of clergy
My hearts'all for you
To depress all your suitors'
My shirt weaved for you
In time of bethroten your nude
My hands swing around
Only to receive the glove of your history
Yet! My head would bend
For your warm night kisses
That bring the world great applause