Little Lanre’s Last Lullaby
Albert Olatunde Oloruntoba
A tiny splash, a tiny little laugh, the Sunday that lost its gold,
As tiny ripples sprang where the feet had been,
The cruelest theft snuck but no warning foretold,
The hush fell where joy had been.
Oh merciless! the blue upon where he floats,
You stole the breath meant for a thousand years!
Now at the corner, floats the red whistle he’d alway blown,
And anguish bellows through a mother’s painful groan.
Yet that summer Lanre stopped to breathe,
Within the shortest time dozen house could feel.
Traced the shadow where he never had been,
A love stood around but alas, freed from pain.
Still, pools lie cool with their delusive gleam,
Teasing, toasting, tempting you yo come ‘swim’,
Beware the peck of romance calling from the pool around.
