i want to sit
the way old folk use to,
like grandma.
sittin with grandpa
talkin in silence
on the porch.
wide awake
watching the sun
fall asleep.
they saw things.
they saw things
with their eyes open,
things they eyes couldn’t see.
i want to sit like that
– still, grandma sat,
rocking in her chair.
by K. Osei
a thousand winters
shall frost and wind
remove your splendor
and your grandeur remains.
with arms out-stretched
you grasp the breeze and sway
in tender waltz to winters theme.
bare and bold you stand,
firmly fixed,
rooted in Zion’s dream.
by K. Osei
The last of fall’s leaves
fall brilliantly to the dust.
as do I.
they glean and dance,
prancing to the wind and wonder,
magnifying radiant rays of light,
before final separation.
how softly they descend,
yet they never fail to rise again,
pervading vascular limbs with double splendor,
and then, they fall.
as do I.
by K. Osei
oh how i miss
the dewy-eyed bliss
of such hollowed days.
parcels to plunder,
stuffed with wonder
of childish ways.
now i sit
and reminisce,
watching memories fade,
to a an empty shade – of blue.
oh year’s rewind,
i inhale to see
the whiff of pine
and an offering under the tree.
by K. Osei
life between labor’s pain
bracing before the next contraction—
and a sigh before the next 28,
police action.
is it a girl or boy?
pushing for something beautiful.
by K. Osei
nature7blog 