In my bower on a resting day -
A day, ironical of its acclaimed appellation.
Incessant murmurs of the cloud
Stealing into my daytime fitful sleep.
Rod of my personal faith on weather forecast
Stands in obstinate errect, controlling
My nagging mind, repressing my tipsy eyes in
sleep;
That my ears disdain the grumbling at the
world...
As a heavy Eve, ready for delivery,
Howls and howls and howls...
A foray instead into my fitful trance
Sights Mr. Lagbaja, held in folly
By the knocks of drizzle on his roof.
Aye! He empties all hydro-filled barrels at home
Till a bit farther than a flash,
Hypocritical face of sky goes dry as if nothing
occurs
So that its radiance melts the prior hovering
thick shadows.
A sheepish smile now mocks down on him
Who believes heavenly manna must pour;
Lest Lagbaja fumes, purring of being fobbed!
My laughing eyes flutter open like a gate, to
reality
As faith defiles my instinct, its obstinacy melts
Into torrent of dejection, streaming down my
heart.
Like it's dawned on me, trudge I outside,
My sodden eyes meet with my crying attires.
Lo, left hung on the tethering rope.
Still! I let the torrents pour more on our pains
On this so-called, Sunny day?
FOBBED ON A SUNNY-DAY! | Ecency
FOND OF YOUchuka ·
Some Of The Hidden Farm Treasures On The Farm ( The Tomato 🍅🍒, The Pepper 🫑🌶️🫑, The Green Vegetables 🌱🌿🌱 ). This Is A Farmer's Guide. Practically Speaking. mattsanthonyit ·
