By Jomo David
Drops of rain in the dawn,
Drizzles makes it clear for my eyes,
I need to watch my path,
Oh lest I annoy my Miss,
She got the prowess in her writing,
She sounds like Shakespeare on her ink,
Her words with great shadows around,
Just for you stab in attempt of stopping the moving trail,
Yes, she is not perfect as you hear,
She just perfected her art,
With everything within her heart,
Rose bellé to be labeled about,
How does it sound when good morning Sir awakes you up?
Pride meets it’s fatal death on the way,
Butterflies awakes to dance in the stomach,
While heart sprinkles on them favors like in dozen times,
Oh, did I told you she’s my favorite?
Am I King of the jungle yet?
My mind fails me to answer,
But how can I be sad when she’s there?
How can I mourn when her text is the medicine?
Yeah, she’s the doctor of poetry,
She keeps me awake in the sea i swim in,
She watches my image to be safe,
She says she loves colors,
Blue is my choice for her,
Blue is love in the soil,
Is this how love bud sounds?
Even in miles away my Miss,
Your crown is at podium,
Or at the aisle in waiting,
Make me not fail in that thing called love,
Just leave the love bud to live.
©Joweda
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