The wind was whirling,
As the time remained a whirligig,
The owl was howling,
As it saw the dangers of things he barely did,
His pig was hungry and grunting,
Afraid of those that come hunting,
He had slept all day,
Hadn't made nor stashed his hay,
Sun had scorched all day,
It hurts the farmers feet,
He knew not, all day he had slept,
He was so deep in his slumber,
Forgotten all things he had to remember,
The reality surrounded him,
He was dead on bed encapsulated in his illusions,
And the tricks his brain had playing on him,
Each time the sun beats his face,
He fought his way back to his numbness,
He felt the elixir he found moving down in him with a pace,
He couldn't realise his dumbness,
So much left undone,
With no one to have his insolence condoned,
He built castles in his dreams,
His hungry pig had eaten him up where he was asleep,
On the ground, in the barn, he had abandoned his reality.
IF YOU LOVE THIS POST, KINDLY UPVOTE, SHARE YOUR THOUGHT AND RESTEEM
THANKS
IMAGE SOURCE: PIXABAY
ADETONA ABIDEMI N
+2348168868959
[email protected]