Thirty one days ago I met a young man,
Whose skin was light like soap made of oil from palms?
I could see his masculinity- shoulders and legs.
Dazzled I sat, and then I heard his voice- calm.
May I speak to you? Not much of your time will I take?
To strangers whose names I do not know, one word I will not say,
Wearing a frown I knew was fake.
My name is John he said with a smile that me quake.
For twenty and one minute he spoke and spoke,
But in this time, I had written an essay of dear Mr. John.
Oh! Dear Mr. John, I think I now have an insight of you.
Forgive me, should I pass judgments which are wrong.
In so little time have you spoken, but vividly, I have seen your pride.
Lightly, like coyness you wear it, but it is your cloak. It has you covered.
A little to the left, you let your head sway,
But the focus of your mind was in your eyes, you kept it straight.
Your humor is guarded, well guarded to keep contempt away.
Words are beautiful when polished and I perceived the in-depth of your intellect when you spoke.
Discretion is the power of a woman and for this I would say no more, only this.
Knowledge of the world’s philosophies makes you knowledgeable,
Knowledge of the supreme being is divine wisdom.
I remember thirty one days ago like it was yesterday.
Happy world poetry day! I had planned to blog something else today but time hasn’t let me sit to put these thoughts down. Then I realized oh a celebration of poetry, let me have one of my midnight musing on the blog.
I hope this poem is really understood by you my dear friends….
Kindly leave comments, and please help me share.
I am your friend, Ezeani Flora.