Gone, To Get Dusted Poem by segun Johnson Ozique

So her season arrived when she came a natural
Gorgeous copious joyful Eunice Titilayo Ogunleye
Grew a ripened, fruity, gusty and jokey cynosure
Her years clocking; mate, kids and kin she amassed
Deaconess Christiana Olomola she now has passed
Her time as her deeds, as will all, done and dusted.
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Her transiting rips our guts, whipping with whys
Searching like by children answers self-evidential:
For as spells are times like what else come as go;
To the Beings, death was made to season of birth
To plants; time to sow, plough as portion to pluck
As times with her brought laughter so now tears
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Up from this sink and stab we must dust and dab
For bewails in howls and hues was not her thing.