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Poem : Mr. late by:Hassan Idris


On that day thou will heist me and biff me just like we were accustomed to, but will still be speechless

With my breath truncated, eyes opened but close; can't see thou for thou will marvel what's wrong with me

With my hands weak, cold like an ice block that has been solidify and thou will burst into cry, exclaiming Mr. Late.

Thou will encapsulate the benovelence of mine and the malevolence, but please forgive me! For then, thou will be anxious to sight me, for I will be covered with white garment, for anew, thou will shed tears like a nursing mother nursing her dead baby,

 Afflictively will it be, seeing thou crying, but the truth is 'when the time is due, there's no addition nor deduction 'for we must all leave.
Hassan Idris writes from Benue, Nigeria 

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