Little seed

Small seed, a poor prize
Which I carried along all this while
In my forgotten pocket and in my heart
I am going to plant it someday though
And watch it grow from my window
And everytime I wake in the morning
I shall look to it as the sun rises
From my old rusty window
And I shall remember everything
That ever happened to me
The good, the bad and a memory
That must tell me how lucky
I am to make it home

By Oke Iroegbu

Finance Graduate, Bibliophile and Bard of Ovim, his hometown. Read more at

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