Anne's Confession Poem by Folayemi Akande

The love that roams in Rome
Has found in me an abode
How do I suggest it retreat
When its splendor do sooth?

You're most generous My Lord, with your most quaint words
But the hold of love upon my heart
Is by far weighty than troy ever could weigh.
The credence I bestow upon its worth
Is immeasurable and if by any means summed
Such extravagant trial shall not be in my court found
For even the longest night is rather short to level how I feel.

My heart has formed aliance with the wind
My heart cannot throbe devoid your pulsate down my lungs.
Oh, may God bless the day this mortal man was formed
For even your silence seduces me pleasantly.
If I groan, it would be under the weight of your love
For what manner of man can make a woman love this much?
If not the man that is love himself.