WHISPERS ARE NEVER SILENT

By Lanre badmus

The sun drops dead.
Her grave, more of a bed.
Your thought rudely rises-
I'm an addict, you're my vices.
A tantalising temptation-
I'll catch without an hesitation.
The persistence of pure pleasure-
sweetness of a lasting leisure.

The sun willingly wakes
without apparent aches.
Your picture still peeps-
an eternal love, I've reaped.

Dawn down to dusk,
your absence always sulks.
Your presence, always salient-
whispers are never silent.

The oceans of your thoughts...
to float, I've never fought.
Your love is my fate...
calendars will always have dates.

February 2018

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