Poems

My Crib

 

Soft, succulent and tender is my abode,

My place of rest

The place I call home,

Your warmth, my warmth

The only shelter made for me.

Dozing off on you

Seems like a journey to Iceland,

A journey filled with smiles and comfort.

When I lie in you, I know my pains are gone.

The friendship and companionship I find in you knows no bound,

All alone I soliloquise,

Playing into the hand of the Yoruba saying: “It is only mad people who speak to

themselves.”

If becoming mad when I am with you will make me happy, I will better be more crazy

living every night with you.

The one that makes me happy,

My Crib.

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