Jul 2015 – African Poetry & Stories by Oke Iroegbu

The Bee

There was a little bee It always wore black and yellow And was always happy The bee love the row, And the heat of the

For the consciousness come thither to my weary soul The light shining upon the shades of my life The hope and love burning above all,

The touch of your warmth Standing besides your whole length The wealth I desire dwells in you You become the antidote to my cold The

And each night I come to this bed To lay my weak and frail bones Your thoughts flood my stray mind With strength come from

1 The cool night turned a storm The grey linings of the clouds Wore out with the passing firmaments The trees swirled in a wild

After the long day The storm has its way But come what may we lived to say

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