A Song For Papa
There was no cloud
by akachukwu chukwuemeka ( akabeks)
Yet the rain came heavy,
Our umbrellas were not ready
And we got soaked.
God the author of all, raised his sun
To dry us whole and to him we give Glory for all.
Papa scored from an offside position
But, if God the ultimate referee accepts the goal,
Ordinary mortals we are can never query
Eye remember papa’s hot furnace moulding
Like raw gold eye complained the heat, yet the goldsmith
Knew his job and made us to a perfect mould,
We thank you papa for you made us whole.
Eye thought the orange sun will be watched
Smiling to set but, a sudden cloud, thick,
Swallowed the glow and you said,
‘Where is it am going’ and rest, then eye remember
The beauty of the place that prompted your exclamation,
And thanked God that led you by his gentle hands on that
8th of July,2010
Where Alleluia welcomed you