Ekaette, rounded and complete
Paragon of African beauty
A lone daughter of Monsieur Morgan
Adored by many as a model
He was the father I never had
Ekaette, lady to the core
Cool and calculated in her ways
Groups regretted you weren’t a man
But you looked after your father’s house
Cared for the sick and raised their spirits
Ekaette, Florence Nightingale
A guiding seraph when in dire need
Mere seeing you, I fantasized love
I was shy and young to say the word
You were at hand, like my real sister
Suddenly, asthma stopped short your breathe
Warmth and presence followed your absence
Cover of the night passed on grief
Dry cold wind blows on the fireplace
From the red earth of your greenly recline
Comments
Iboro
Now you are beginning to sort out the rythme of your writes, I shall leave the real technical bits to those that know.
Your works are getting better and better, just put a "D" on the end of win in the last but one line.
I loved the story, well done on this one,
Yours Ian.T
just put a "D"
Thank you for the comments and for all your encouragement, best wishes.
tr