People write books but all I’ve got to write
Is the few pages of my heart.
It’s tremendous, going from this lowly moment to heights of hope,
Singing the lovely praises of love yet singing how heartbroken it is.
Wandering like it’s lost in the desert yet calm as the still lake,
Crying yet telling the face to smile.
Longing to have that warmly hug of affection still it’s cold as a stone,
Yelling at his own stubbornness yet loving his meekness.
My heart isn’t just a book to be read
But its content are fuller than an encyclopedia.
If I should write about the few pages of my heart,
Even the earth will stand with awe!
Written by Adegun Wuraola