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The Mother's Favourite

The mother's favourite was in green
Strewn there in the arms of silence
With lips far too cold for comfort
And ears deaf forever to the mother's pleas
He'd said, under the moonlight once,
while we chased fireflies arm in arm,
That his favourite was the blue in skies
And that his youth would never fail him...
Why what else do we wonder
About the people we honour in memories
Who are below in rot and sands?,
How they loved us till death
Or how defeated they looked when
Like flies on invisible lines,
He claimed them for sport
And gave them the release they craved
From the company of us here,
The mother's children indeed.

by Kanea Nartey

 Posted by: Gideon Light Nartey

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