On His Death

My father was a prestigious man
So lugubrious he had to die
I was just at the age of twelve
When i was told he was away
Naive of why he committed the crime;
He took the life he never owned
He burnt himself alive

For nine years of my life
I have been in a battle
On why he killed himself
I remember me on his laps
Telling me sweet stories of life
I recall the songs he sings
To me in our own wordings
My father was a gift
For who will see no gift in a father?
Though never knew him to the brim
I knew i had a father

His death has brought me pain
To see me a fatherless soul
I know i have a gain
A destiny not to be wasted
I have an abode in God
I feel i am at rest
My father is late
But happiness dwells till date
My life is like a rose
Laid in the midst of thorns
And yet still blossoms
For when a father is lost
A father is surely found

2 thoughts on “On His Death” by Wright Bankole (@Wright08)

  1. nice poem…keep it up and if its true pls take heart

    For when a father is lost
    A father is surely found….
    I love dat ending

  2. If this is for real, then I am sorry. He would be proud that you are doing good as the years go by.
    Keep writing – Bankole write. $ß

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