The Grass. Poem by Yakubu Mohammed
The Grass.
Methink the firewood of this World...ay.
Alas! How long do we await Lefty? Or
Is Godot the soothing marrow?
Arise O Compatriots: come, see,
The Centre is on a brink of catastrophe and
The Mantle is unavoidably romancing
The unenviable feet of Godot.
Hmm!
When will the Grass breathe
The comfort of the Rain?
Saturday, August 6, 2011
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4/24/2024 8:47:37 AM # 1.0.0.1119
