When the world matures around me
When time shall dance with my squeaking bones
That my pen will succumb to the aridity of impotency
And I shall be unable to write you, anymore
Will you tell the world, who I was to you?

When it shall come to pass
That a researcher will study my poetry
That a class will marvel at my lamentations
That in all wrongs, I shall be labeled a courier of unrequition
Would it make you proud of my tireless pursuit?

When a mournful visage of you
Shall carry a bottled ocean on your back
To stupefy the earth with instructions about laxity
To wade the land you make muddy with your hesitation
Will the tempest have dwindled to a destructible power?

When the time comes
That the search of belle will be decorated
Will you name an island after me
And have my spirit hovering beside you in our new world?
Would it take that long for you to see?
When archeologists in the quarry of lust
Will harvest my deposed desires
And display them in museum and art galleries
To show the nudity of your arrogance
Will you at least visit?

When the time comes
That my pulsations will dwindle
When the emptiness inside will decompose
When seashells will still and break
Will you remember I said I love you?

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Eddy Ongili is Words Freak.

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