Drizzly blessings watered his bed of inspiration
clothing every little seed in bubbles bursting open fruits on to mother earth.
He sat by his burning embers arms outstretched to catch the flames and stay warm.
Tea was a blessing held by a graceful ceramic vessel and a paper lay in front of his very eyes calling his itchy fingers.
The aroma of tea searched his thoughts, revealing poetry drowned in an ocean of hectic hustles and they became a flowing river of words tumbling onto a paper with no resistance.
The drizzling became a downpour and his inspiration dried up like desert sand at the mercy of sun’s scorch.
His hand abandoned the ink as he lifted his fingers off the paper at the expense of a partly spelt feeling.
He made mental notes of this hypnotizing feeling and grabbed the flames his core so desperately desired to be intoxicated with.
— By Ruth C. Odikaesieme.