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: graceola636@gmail.com)
