The night, I made an arrest


The night, I made an arrest
It was cold, my fingers and speech
was a perfect set, birth many years
to live

I blew the sands, carried heavy
armory, the standing light
My Judge and witness to be

i was all frownish, dressed
in a serious suit, black and light golden, it’s a deadly death of a spare evening

No casual music, no foreign dancing
Jokes was given to the cab to sail
to the sea

I was alone with her, and my
captive to be
And on a bended knee, I ask
if she would marry me


Image courtesy:

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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