WHEN NIGHT COMES I bear the day's glaring shadows, Wishing the night never drapes These swivelling ankles to creep, As I played with the moths and bees, Wishing mosquitoes never filmed This housefly-like cottage within. Will night evade this youthful day? Will these flailing toes turn toddler Wading with cringed tricycle again? Will I see my brother's shadow Instead of that firefly-like face of Youth embracing gaudy handshake? The night is a market woman's basket, With many faceted faces of ingredients; Its approach is a scourge to the soul: Flies wandered in sleep, while mosquitoes Evade the playground with eerie hums, And dream wrestled with dreamers. ©Nket Godwin
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