ADAMU ABBA MUSA
U13MM1055
In the early hours of
the morning, sometimes amidst the humid dawn, my eyes fell on a flower and its
red made my heart warm.
I plucked its succulent stake, touching dearly its tender petals. I desire that I place it in your hands, the minute I catch hold of your lovely sight. This is what burns inside of me.
I kept it as I wait for the hour and cast my longing eyes on it.
Inscribed in the book of wisdom, is that as marvelous as it blossoms at the wake of the morning sun, so shall it wither at the sun’s set.
I watched as this beauty pales in wrinkles like the aged. I fell in the depth of thinking and in all I have this to say:
If this blooming flower, my love for you stands, if all that I care for, is that smile may spread on your face, then this flower to you I shan’t give.
Flamboyant flower, they called it. That you are my queen; I thought it could express that depth. That it grows pale, I shan’t to you present.
If it is a symbol of love, then it can’t represent my love because though you are my pride and your beauty compares with this flower, in sameness and even greater, my love for you shan’t grow pale, neither shall it wither.
Away I throw this beauty, that linger only when the sun shines for though it is beauty’s concrete, it lasts only when the sun breaths.
Love is not a trivial issue... let's talk about it. Who knows...?
I plucked its succulent stake, touching dearly its tender petals. I desire that I place it in your hands, the minute I catch hold of your lovely sight. This is what burns inside of me.
I kept it as I wait for the hour and cast my longing eyes on it.
Inscribed in the book of wisdom, is that as marvelous as it blossoms at the wake of the morning sun, so shall it wither at the sun’s set.
I watched as this beauty pales in wrinkles like the aged. I fell in the depth of thinking and in all I have this to say:
If this blooming flower, my love for you stands, if all that I care for, is that smile may spread on your face, then this flower to you I shan’t give.
Flamboyant flower, they called it. That you are my queen; I thought it could express that depth. That it grows pale, I shan’t to you present.
If it is a symbol of love, then it can’t represent my love because though you are my pride and your beauty compares with this flower, in sameness and even greater, my love for you shan’t grow pale, neither shall it wither.
Away I throw this beauty, that linger only when the sun shines for though it is beauty’s concrete, it lasts only when the sun breaths.
Love is not a trivial issue... let's talk about it. Who knows...?
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