BY OBINNA OLEWE
My love, I kneel beside you in this church
Seeming as though I'm praying with all such
Who to an unknown god rend up their hearts,
Singing and praying with them when it starts.
I do rant and cry out my penitence
And walk circumspectly with repentance;
I begrudgingly tithe up my offering.
But in all I'm to my conscience lying.
Than God I to your beauty bare my heart,
Than a contrite mind my heart and soul flirt,
Than Cherubim I see you, my angel.
These my tears are ones of joy, of revel
For the freedom that your religion gives
My soul, not from God but in you derives.
Contact the author: E-mail: obinnaolewe@yahoo.com
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