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A machine cannot give birth

floating lights

and dark skies

sit on the phantom

heir as chair

a soft touch

a ripple

in the deep

blue sea

paper chairs

and crosses

float

beneath

the skies

as sheet

(the eye wake

gaze

at merry old

stars;

the ***** wonder )

we are weak

when we

are poor

and meek

when we

admit the tongue

did defeat

an old pair

of glasses

as glory

we all

wither

all mouths

meet winter

i hope

to

see

wall

grow flowers

before

a machine

gives

birth.

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Written by

ugochukwu-charles-onyewuchi

Nigerian

Published: Jan 8, 2016
LinesWords: 4286

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