LUNAR BLOSSOM

The moon is ripe, lodged in my hands;

Gone now are the days of barren soles.

That which was forgotten now reads the sand

Where at the gilded altar now I stand

I watch the dawn embrace my varnished soul.

The moon is ripe, cupped in my hands..

A thousand bolts can't thwart the wand

And set me adrift, still lost in the shoal.

That which was forgotten, now reads the sand-

But how will they know or understand

That my broken shards now form a whole?

Still the moon is ripe, clasped in my hands:

Let minstrels prance and strike up the band-

For my errant darts have struck their goal.

That which was forgotten, now reads the sand

And the street is raving about my new brand...

My song on every lip - my name on every scroll

For the moon is ripe, lodged in my hands

And that which was forgotten, now reads the sand.

By

Hope Kalé Ewusi