George Egba - Wet With Words

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To the mountain crown I am lure
Had my prime passion tore
Out of zeal to get beyond what i bore
Then travel to yonder shore
Behold my eager face wore
A glory behind this treasured door
Here it bit me ever like a sore
Now weeping was all I saw
Not familiar like things here before
But these dreams I admire brought all of rigor
As the corps willing the blood ignore
This pressing pump a snore
Upon which all worries I pour
Yet did not care for all was vapour
That crip in cool and defiled my armour
Watching through ancient asia minor
And wish no more dreams of torture
Which left me longed for my childhood glamour
Early as I watch the sun fade from splendour
I hate it all that ever i venture
Down my memo
Like a painful past I endure

George Egba

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