you're my music.
If my lone drunkenness would make me drunk,
would it push my thigh against your sole wish?
if i wander in the road o' ecstasy,
like the rumble of few nine clouds, would i
forget thee in the middle of my long'ngs?
i am a tree, you're th' murmurs of its leaves.
If my actions means nothing, is it not
in your empirical that i beauty?
ev'n in your pleasantness as the blue moon.
would i forget you when your fine make up
washes off like the cleanse of brown mud from
knitting needles, thin as thy eyelashes?
Nay, they say what would be, would it not be?
yet, would i not be a pleas'ng frankincense
when your nice juice tastes sour? would i not be
the air that rolls o'er mountains and valleys
for a blest of neighbourliness with you?
Ye am i, i am but nobody yet
myself, and in thy friendliness am i
not drunk? i am not. but thy goodness ev'n
thy affection glow in the sensory
of my music. if you're not my music
would dirges be the romance of breathing?
"words from the innocent mind'
Akinwale Peace Akindayo