(Photo by Dutchess Ema Bassey)
Down the road, endlessly I drove,
Street to street in search of a glove
To cover tonnes of naked lanterns.
And then a stove to steam a frozen heart,
Not after any kind bird but a white dove
For a bed of maze and restless night;
I bent on a groove against fear and guilt,
But drifted into confusions
And endless tale of love.
I pondered with the slides,
I tend to prove the maze right,
Only to get full flashes of red light.
Prior for a sincere move
I pleaded for the puzzle hit,
But had no room to improve.
Filled with labyrinth and a clove
I skydove into a woodstove
In the full dark of a restless night.
A troubled man, I was interwove
Then you came, with a light from above
And my dark loneliness become a shove.