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Tough as an old boot

They say; the way home has the longest miles
Saying His grace, I wait for my hour

In your eyes, I am dull, weak and lazy…
Torn ligaments, cold tears gush from my eyes

I can’t remember the last time I smiled
Now a days, mountains keep growing taller

All things are hard before they get easy,
That was when Sunday mornings were easy

Not now when skies have swallowed the tower
Indeed; the way home has the longest miles.

©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

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