Winter Of Hope. Poem by Ben Chukwuemeka Okere II

I know the truth at which you aim
How quiet you are 'cause of fear of maim
Your heart filled with the thoughts of your woman's late pregnancy,
For on their faces, signs of malignancy.

You sort for your life, but to people a maniac,
Many I know, died from an arrest called cardiac
How well to death a patronage,
Though, I know it's our earthly package.

I know how fast the papers we had to scour,
Leaving our souls so bright but sour,
But your faces with a grim,
As to us all no esteem.

I know for now, a winter of hope,
Free from our natural scope,
As now, to our old age they sneer,
More painful to the soul, than a pierce from a spear.