That Morning Poem by Tony Adah

That Morning



I am sad
The brittle wings of the butterfly
Are broken, its colours gone
Can a tiger be known without
It trade mark patches?
That morning the giant slept still
Even the sweet melodies of cowries
He looked not their way.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Be the first one to comment on this poem!
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success