Moving By Akinwale Peace

Moving.

The flower and its petals
With its bright coloured sky.
How beautiful is it —
When it vanishes nigh?
An ugly valley cause of it
or dashing meadows of green grass —
Or rust of leaves reaching the sun,
Or lonely vales like of a sea?


Akinwale Peace Akindayo
Philip Peace

by Akinwale Peace

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