three lush brothers,
firm upon torn boulders,
wistful blue skies
flying clouds sigh,
tentacles as palms
day made to warm.
these green brothers,
yokes of sweet nectar,
golden sunshine
blotched lines,
spiky front as arms
familiar to harm.
Three Brothers
Discover more from Okechukwu’s Musings: Poetry, People and Places
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
