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Pots and mushrooms

Beauty and the beast days
Are unrealistic tales
When the beast is so poor
And have nothing to pour
Now; beauties are reserved
For big bags and big rides.

The bush we have these days
Where mushrooms were those days
All have a trader’s face
Welcoming but they chase
Accepting busy pots
And a big heavy purse.

Demands on their tables
Are unattainable
These days pillows drip tears;
Gone are the sweet old days
When craves were benign, soft
Like marshmallow; and sweet.

Those we crush on in church
Sound it, “drop cash to touch”…
Then, all these fears were there
Stronger than love they bear
But its walls were fallible…
While love, unbreakable.

The mushrooms on dead woods
Are no where to be found
Because they all sort out
For busy cooking pots
Now, love is if you can
Cook the conditional.

©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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