Pen And Paper Poem by ali chukwuemeka

Trees and grasses stand at alert.
Succumbing to every throb of breeze.
To and fro so they throng.
Whistling as they wave along.
They seem to be everywhere.
Enforcing a stable state of serenity.

Huts and mud houses
Scantyly and strategically positioned,
Giving rise to an array of bushes,
That demarcated all settlements.

Come rain come shine,
Change was never anticipated
And so contended were the dwellers
That they less crave civilization goodies.

Tender skins with the slightest glance of opportunity,
Grew wings and flew the villages,
Leaving behind the old and haggard,
To tend their wounds and till the ground.

Here I lie,
lost in the aesthetic balance of nature's prowess,
Hopping for the acceleration of time,
That will hasten my stay in the village.
Inactivity bored and crippled my vigor,
But my pen and paper kept me going.