I thought I would die old

We always pray
Life extend its feet for us
We live pass eternity
In our tiny little head
Sheltered in our
Own little rent
So I always think
In my elderly dreams
Fashioned with white grin
But then
I saw my posters
Pasted all over town
Of my passing death
With that happy smile of mine
Evident on the picture
And the moving heart
Of the crowd
Evident on their departing faces
With sweet words of grief and pity
I laughed at my old thought
Of how fake we can be
Buried in our dead skin
demanding our long
we shall see



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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