Dove flew to the cot where it was deemed forbidden,
For the arm to welcome it was long away ridden,
Too withdrawn to be privy the wing is fly-driven,
Too innocent to behold the dove is pain-ladden,
Tho' the love tried to be muffled,
The heart shuddered at not to cuddle,
And justice done of self to love tussle
Holds firm to the constancy of self struggle,
Then the falconer chirps a million times to unriddle,
The song sung so cryptic that unsettled is the eagle,
And drowsy rhythm lulled into awakened bubbles,
And then the garden began its crops with such ride,
Fertile and quick like a daring kite,
Soaring high, speeding up to ripe,
Now we dine in the star-tide,
That makes the portent that the feeling is right.
© Olaitan
Hello, I am Jodekss Gloatkenf --my penname. I am a professional writer, ghostwriter, researcher, editor, blogger, podcaster, artist, thinker and lightworker. I believe in creativeness, diversity and uniqueness --my definition of art.
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