SOME DAYS (to Akawu)

Some days know the secret leaning of the heart their auricles are acres of clay watered by the kindest dew their music the beat of every pulse smiles grow in the garden of their lips there is grace in their greeting bliss in their blessing a merciful moon sits in the center of their night their hours ripen in the shadows of a generous sun when they pass houses throw open their doors flowers drape them in their rarest fragrance for them tenderness is no treason compassion is no constraint some days are not allergic to softness some days are not afraid of being human