By Nasir Taofiqat (Tnash)

The stock of thought in sigh, burnt

In silent craves of morrow,

Though, time a clown ceased

Around her cloak of mystery.


Yesterday wore weary

Embraced dawn in grace

Only for today in her barren pod,

To chew hope, the talk of tomorrow


The tasty stalk is drained,

Out of tomorrow today stamped

Like purge of pestilence in wind,

Yesterday to Elysium is sentenced.


2016 Wares is buried

Exited  into exile indefinitely,

Her tomorrow of hopes will call not again,

In passage of Time, her page is torn.


About the author

Bada Yusuf Amoo

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