Sleeper Cell. Poem by Olamide Adebayo

Sleeper Cell.



Somewhere in the western suburb, Africa! ,
Hot! , like the furnace were our abode;
But the wind, chanting in favour of me.
The pinacles of my ears seem to open,
To allow the euphonic nan of forlorn
Be my crony.
And boredom seem to grab me by the horn,

Saturday, December 19, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: africa
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