MISSING EDGES OF THE SWORD

I may be nothing

Nothing worth something

To have touched hearts of the future

To openly declare

II

I hate being a plantain tree

Peeling off my leaves while growing others

But I love that most peeled,

Climb for the heavens

After falling off me

III

A thought of a goner

And this heart flutters

A thought of a goner

And I am like an empty bucket

Although there are more eyes in replacement

Must this be an annual ritual?

IV

With my hands stretched

I reach for all dreams

Befitting the future

And hang them on ladders of hardwork

For their picking

V

With these arms stretched

I reach for protection

Protection and great affection in all sane ambitions

For the future to be held safe

So the missings from both ends will be worthy

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015