Glancing through the roses at the purlieu of my garden,
To see the bonny yellows that are coming for me.

Blood everywhere, I see; with no sign of ripe lemons.
Hemophobia is my love for blood, but I still prefer my lemon juice.

I send my irides to dine with the breezy moment,
To espy if there is any other pigment awaiting me.

The wind seems scared of my cruel bluish glance.
In quick, she takes her message back to the pith.

Walking the line back to my comfort pit,
In the midst of mist.
At the battle ground of my brownish feelings

I look up in the bolt from the blue,
To chase away my shadow.
Then I witness my shine from the east,
My precious yellow is back!.

-#Lekan #poetry

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