Gone would be the days

Gone would be the days
When you were young
And your nails used to crawl

For perfection lies the road
That you turn
In the nick of the noon

Love saved a dust
In the ribs of adam’s bone

Songs play a rhythm
In divinity’s arm

Souls relax and listen
With immortal clock

Ticking beyond the silence
Of the wooden world


Image courtesy: adgansky.wordpress.com

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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