The Year He died

The Year He died

It rained the year he died
Big drops
From God’s eyes
Up in the skies

I slept the year he died
Strange dreams
No seams
Running together like cloth reams village streams

I drove the year he died
Lagos, Ibadan, Ilesha
Four wheels
Petrol Bills

I laughed the year he died
No memories why
Strange looks
Many moods and song hooks

I cried the year he died
I wonder why
I died the year he died
They wondered why

I lived the year he died
Words, whispers
Remembrance, hope, solitude, multitude
Heaven – gratitude

 

19:30pm 22/05/2013

1 thought on “The Year He died

  1. The best is to keep the good memories, also to forgive the bads done to us by them and the most important is to practice what they would love us to do or achieve so that when we visit their graves, we may not be hurt too much but to be proud of what we have become by their teachings and words of encouragements. … They sleep but the memories Will forever be in our thoughts and minds. May his soul rest in peace and May his absence never bring division in the family. Sleep on, the beloved HERO of your heart………..

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