Lucky Sunday

Rivers State, Nigeria
Friday, February 21, 2020

Tommorow, The Guest

Rating: 4.0
Daughter: Mom, we've got a man by the door
Mother: Oh! The coffee man has finally come
Daughter: No! He figures a complex without a spoor
Mother: Then you had better got glimpse at a gnome

Daughter: Mom, we've got a man by the door
Mother: And I'm expecting the parietal of the Noodler
Daughter: He's neither got a commodity or a gift
Mother: Must have jaywalked, making it to here

Daughter: Mom, we've got a man by the door
Mother: How does he look?
Daughter: He's a whole being with two ors
Mother: Hasn't he got an au fait façade?

Daughter: Mom, he seems to be our anticipation
Mother: You are getting me attuned to a paradox
Daughter: Sure mom, he's got black or white
Mother: I see he has brought an ambient of deliberation

Daughter: His black is better than his white
Mom: How else?
Daughter: And his white better than his black
Mom: I believe he is a salient to face than guess

Daughter: Mom we've still got him by the door
Mom: Let him in
Daughter: He said he waits till time lets him
Mother: Pray he'll get the best for us
Lucky Sunday
Topic(s) of this poem: future
A girl senses the gently arrival of the next day, though disguised in the face of a man. Whenever she felt the future approaching she runs to let her tell her mother who on the other hand makes wrong assumptions. She finally comes to the realization of the man's true and identity and why he would not come in.

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1/19/2021 1:57:37 PM #