I didn't have the wrist of Osundare
Nor the tongue that speaks Wole Soyinka
Yet, my anthology is not up to a Canto
Not until I make for you a Bible, ahead stretching Water

I lingered through the facets of beauty
A million turning a second up in my head
Nothing, no one soothes the burrow like the sky crying
No touch is so tender like the blow from Mama nature

Can you you feel the Lullaby she sings on the Roofs?
Tell me! Does your Mama placate so tender to lure you to sleep better?

A drop triggers a race,
Its menial calls for buckets
Her late stay claims furnitures of ages

A flow of bliss that built Eden here
In her pour makes Marmaids glitter
Puts the smile on Cutlasses and hoes
As more pockets surely would smile

With no paint,
Brightly, she paints the sky Grey
Your Ex-GF would wanna stay more Late
Make sure you didn't make it rain, else, you are in soup!