When You See My Wife, Rebecca Poem by David Olusanya

When you see my wife, Rebecca,
tell her I'm now a baker;
To feed and nourish my hungry kindred,
with buttered brown bromate-free bread.

For her memory left me an oven
such that made her love well proven.
And this memory is the maker
of this brown bard, busy baker.

My bread is my fine poetry,
garnished with beauty, like a French pastry.
From it you will find ancient wisdom,
to furnish you with forever freedom.

Take and eat this bread of life,
for the baker has lost his wife;
When his hands were rudely lazy,
and lacked the means to keep his lady.

When you see my wife, my Rebecca
tell her I'm now a busy baker.
Tell her my bread is honey-sweet,
before the sun bakes me on the street.

David O. Olusanya