Though our love is distanced, by the river of our class

We stand by the docks, our emotions in letters

They float in little wooden boats, pushed by the winds of our affection

For in the deep corners of our hearts, rests the hidden mail box

Out of the reach of society

Where eyes can’t see, nor hands touch

Our yearning flows in waves, crashing into life’s shores

Before journeying back to death’s seabed

In an endless spiral, as the deer pants for water

My heart aches for the day

When we’ll meet again at long last

A mourning father’s adieu to the son who left too soon

-The Grace Ola in Collaboration with Precious Ahams

(CONTACT US- IG: @thegraceola and @queen_ahams, Twitter: @thegraceola, FB: Oyinkansola Ogunyinka, Email:


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