Akingbade Abimbola Akinfenwa

The Funeral

At the funeral

The sky got moody and blushed within.

the sun and the moon bidded farewell.

Rythm of gloom and soberness.

At the funeral

Sparkling eyes embraced the colour

of the roses in scarlet.

Regrets and gnashing were those of

they who missed the call of love.
At the funeral

Men became toddlers with wailing and

tears of lost.

The hero of the day was the spirit that

looked in silence and weep for fellow

dead men.
At the funeral

A place were every nobody becomes a


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