The Bride

Decades after, the suitors still come to sway
Approaching with enthusiasm and murderous love
With brim confidence to lure her away
Yet show little for the legitimates to approve

She’s a homely bride where every suitor prefer to dwell
But no one can tell where the awesome beauty lies
Even as the dry season tends to be cruel
Making a famine where rich abundance lies

In real sense no one could guarantee her wish

But can be wooed by the pleasures of hers
Blessed by nature which can’t fast diminish
Like the countless value of the golden stars

A mirror can never reflect someone else’s face

Other than the individual who has thrown his gaze

Like a cowry shell of now little worth
She’s been ridiculed of her beauty and left to rot