I seep water off the flower roots

This i do when the owl hoots

Iam a giver than i ever was while alive

O call me generous

My body i let to worms to devour

But my book i tuck to my chest 

Writing i still do 

I got a feel like you my reader

A ghost with a feel

I might not be handsome for my skin did peel

But if i could hear your voice down here,my ears would heal

O i see you kneel by my grave

Tears you drain 

Then i feel the pain

That i did let you in the cold 

Scratch the ballast off my grave

For i got you a page to read ,to numb your feel,to let you free

African poems




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