Written By Precious M. Oludare

I have come to know that I am meant to be the

one always in a dry night, with the moon

dropping in its ears the tales of my mornings

and afternoons; how the market is a clumsy old

dungeon and my feelings for the ladies at the

yellow oceans

Who says the moon is a dim bulb? That

sometimes I find glee each time I whisper

and vomit all my sorrow — and its ray only

soaked it up like a cold bird warming its

wings by the heat. Looking up to the sky,

inhaling the breath of the leaves and gazing

the fire-flies around. Who then says—night is dark?

I cannot say the world is a dark hole we crawl—in

when we we have the sun for the day. And the moon

for the night.

With the help of the moon and stars, I have learnt

to cast my qualms on hungry leaves as the moon

lightens my heart burdens