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I will never forget the times we played
in the new sounds of tropical rains.
The smell of new moisture in the dust
How we longed that it will not go away again.
Yet somewhere,
someone destroys our air
with corpse left to dry.
It were dried as if preserved
as a monument that we are all brothers.
Love is the greatest gift.
Let’s love when the dusty sun scorches
When the rain drops hit our lips and runs along our chins.
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Writer Profile
Emmanuel
I am a university student in Ghana
I am a bit reserved but in love with social issues.
I don't write much .I enjoy loving what nature give us and sharing them with others.
I think most of my writings will be about the beautiful topical surroundings around me.
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Comments
Great piece DAKE KOFI SELORM | Oct 12th, 2005
It is not easy to write-it is even more difficult to think and to imagine.
You speak to your generation through this piece.Keep it up
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