Lathe

The first call came from you to strengthen my soul,
And this tells me how much that you love me;
But to meet your muse is like the meat in my soup.

An ion from an iron,
And to hear your call is like to be here together with me;
But to see your muse afar is like the sea near my house,
For the waste has now reached to the waist of my neighbour!

A tin from a teen is like the Code Number 211!
But Lathe was there to save you;
For you were lost in the land of your muse,
And like the signal of the call from your love! !
But, will a nation be born at once? !

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!