Death, Death!

With her regular visit
Stitched the feet of an elderly
Adorned with fresh perfume
Piercing the nose of the night
She descend happily from the departing train

She walk slowly with gentle feet
Wetting the floor of the street
With colorful red flowers
As I watch her robes walk by
From my window
The stairs of my room

Enjoying my gaze
As she appears absent to all
She stares me to sleep
With her tender touch and soft music of
“I’m always with you”

She pats my hair
With her scar-filled palms
Shedding from the hurts
Of the traveler’s skin

Hurriedly! I watch her shadow depart
With the speed of light
At the tick of the tower’s bell
With the walking stick drag along with her

She answers the call
Of the visiting traveler
Appearing in a cold dark suit
To the fill of his jar
Of the journey end’s taste

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About Michael Ogundele

A writer, ardent reader and lover of nature. fell in love with writing five years back and I've been engraved in her arms ever since. I share my little way of writing poetry and reflections based on Catholic faith and Spirituality on this space. I hope you enjoy reading as we ride the same chariot to the leafy greens. Do follow me and together, let us jump into the ocean of my ink.
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