The sun seems not to make a single statement.
An apparent approval of winter's establishment?
Her silence sounds like the clash of swords.
Wishful whispers from quiet words.
With pride, Winter sails across the skies.
Her confidence candidly made of ice.
The sun seemingly keeps her ideas to heart.
Winter is the lastest bride of planet earth.
At the moment, the sun won't be walking the aisle.
A situation that will surely remain for a while.

Lanre Badmus.
January 2021



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Lanrebadmus(The Poetic Assassin)

Lanrebadmus(The Poetic Assassin)

A legal practitioner being tormented by the spirit of writing. I abuse the intake of poetry like a banned drug.