A blue sky.

And the boy with a blue eyes,

ascending,

from on high.


Right in your eye,

you see it, like a burnish theme.

Just for him.

You closed your eyes,

and you dreamed.


All this were lotions.

In preparation for the boy’s future,

You creamed.


Your vision for him

Were potions.

For his sharp headache,

Pain, you dimmed.

his perfect health,

you redeemed. 


He can’t paint a picture for himself,

You think.

He might not be better off,

Without you.

You think.

Most time he doesn’t think,

You think.


He knows he needs you,

He doesn’t think.

He deserves to dream his own dream.

Paint his own picture,

Paint on his own wall,

And do his own thing.


For himself,

Let him think.

let him do the sum.

Trapped in his encephalon,

is much more than you think.

©Godwin Okhuoya