What of if I died while writing these lines?
Or you departed before reading these?
What would our foot springs might or might not have written in the passages of time.
What softness would our palms might or might not have pasted on some stony hearts?
What smile would our hearts might or might not have painted on some squeezed faces?
How deep might be our foot springs for good or bad?
Let's allow Time, the accurate story teller, tells our tales.
Stephen Olufemi Omolara
Tuesday, March 12, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: moral teachings