Whispers in the Wind

To be led to the callous alters, coz we are in bed with love,
A celebration for the nobility of morality, we call this in awe,
I see flowers filling up the skies, with joy we say you are blessed,
Love is a senseless thing, coz of the willingness to die for that which you claim to love.

Like a defiant beast it stands, build by the hands of geniuses,
Gripped by the elbows with hands, as the struggle for Africa begins,
Finally it wades across life streams, in rare angelic robes,
Love is a senseless thing, coz of the willingness to die for that which you claim to love

With pride it swells, in satisfaction we wait,
Through Eden’s wide gates, the duke of Sussex holds bait,
A gnawing pain grips her spine, soon a vagitus cry pierces our eardrums,
Love is a senseless thing, coz of the willingness to die for that which you claim to love.

She is born of might, but looks like the cathedral priest,
In happiness we relate her, to her father’s nose in haist,
God was locked down to stop them, on matters below their waist,
Love is a senseless thing, coz of the willingness to die for that which you claim to love.

How quickly tempers rise over the crest, with arms folded across the chest,
Haunted by the ghost of responsibility, for the priests seeds of discord,
Soon his senses immobilized by expert hands, it’s then reported as love triangle,
Love is a senseless thing, coz of the willingness to die for that which you claim to love.

In waiting graves we cry, there after a bonfire to celebrate,
Sooner that she who was left dry, could live life with no regret,
Anyway the deal was till death, time to elope and migrate,
Love is a senseless thing, coz of the willingness to die for that which you claim to love.

© Sabwa John Milton, 2018

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