Sonnet Xvii

Poem By Adeyemi Joshua

'Come play with me', the chick had
Beseeched the young hawk. Sad,
She left, as her mother took her away.
'You don't toy with fire' her mother did say.
But did the chick comprehend that?
Her wits were not then strong to be a dart,
To dismantle the girded words into particles,
And shread naked: the loathsome parable.
The next day she'd made for her way to seek her fiend,
Whom she metamorphose to be her friend.
Unknown to her she'd stayed this long,
The young hawk was caught in a throng.
Came a day that the mother hawk was around with her daughters,
The chick went their and became one of the toddlers.
18: 03: 06: 10: 29

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