Songs of Anisha
“Love Is Fire,”
by Dela Bobobee
Love is like a bushfire in harmattan season
it starts with just a tinny spark without reason
when not carefully tendered it consumes
all jealous lovers disguised in costumes
love is like a mother hen scratching for food
it steps on its chicks that are part of its brood
when not properly fed it licks its own eggs
sucks yolk and albumen to the last dregs
Love is like a splendid strong tower
it shelters the lovebirds with power
when from the start not strongly built
it crumbles under the weight of guilt
Love is like a blind in trudge
it bumps often without grudge
when walking it learns to grope
its fears trained always to hope
Love is like the sad rainforest
it dwindles with man’s unrest
when showed long indifference
it chooses deserts as preference
Love is like a very deep well
its depths abysmal as hell
when its fountain is not in use
it stinks and rusts with abuse
Love is like the planet earth
it provides life and warmth
when not nurtured in health
it may lead to man’s death
Love is like dry seeds
it thrives on good deeds
when sowed in fertile soil
it yields fruits without toil
Love is very scarce
it dries when in farce
when often ignored
it becomes annoyed
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