I once had a trouser...
Or say I got it from my brother...
It was so sleek,
straight, dark and lovely
that I loved and got it the first time I saw it.
It was my favorite..
The kind of pant you'd wear to a date in the day, leave on the waist all night
then wash up and watch to be dried by the upcoming light.
I loved the way it looked on me.
Gave a tough trust in myself and shaped the way people looked at me.
Smart and sweet it was
Of course it was made for me not us
so we could never share its long legs;
long enough for me and no one else.
I loved my black pant
Despite its habit of breaking my heart...
I hate that it's too careless
But when your love is true, what do you do?
'You care less!'
I cared so less or not at all
about its errors and shortcomings.
Made excuses for its faults but they never stopped coming..
Mended it some ways but it would never mend its ways
I kept amending its looseness-
too loved to be useless...
It wasn't its fault
that my pant's pocket couldn't hold stuffs for so long
It was smart and slim so its small pockets were really not wrong.
I had reasons to dump it but I didn't
I had dropped it a few times in the wardrobe but of love and pity,
still picked it in minutes
"How would I ever mean it..."
But eventually I did it
After it cost me my phones, some costly naira notes
And some things I didn't really note.
I was vexed, with shaky legs my pant could feel it...
I got home that night, closed my eyes and ripped it.
Now I have a better white trouser and I still can't believe it.
This is not part of the poem...
We all have black trousers..
We love them so much that their hurt really doesn't matter..
We keep up hopes
though they cost us so much; time, money,vision, tear drops and much more...
But we still hope an cope...
We make excuses for them,
Give rooms for their mistakes
But they never seem to plan to change their mean ways..
We hold on to them like they are the final last
Like we can't live if they leave.
But how were we living before they came to pass.
Perhaps we could go back to that.
There comes a time when we let go our beautiful black pants
so to get some wonderful whites...
I hope a soul gets blessed by this.
You can Contact him for your wedding, birthdays, funerals, anniversaries, church programs and more on +2347061032793 or +2348173933821 solarspeaks@yahoo.com; follow on Twitter: @solarspeaks, Facebook: Adigun Clinton Olushola or Solarspeaks.
Or say I got it from my brother...
It was so sleek,
straight, dark and lovely
that I loved and got it the first time I saw it.
It was my favorite..
The kind of pant you'd wear to a date in the day, leave on the waist all night
then wash up and watch to be dried by the upcoming light.
I loved the way it looked on me.
Gave a tough trust in myself and shaped the way people looked at me.
Smart and sweet it was
Of course it was made for me not us
so we could never share its long legs;
long enough for me and no one else.
I loved my black pant
Despite its habit of breaking my heart...
I hate that it's too careless
But when your love is true, what do you do?
'You care less!'
I cared so less or not at all
about its errors and shortcomings.
Made excuses for its faults but they never stopped coming..
Mended it some ways but it would never mend its ways
I kept amending its looseness-
too loved to be useless...
It wasn't its fault
that my pant's pocket couldn't hold stuffs for so long
It was smart and slim so its small pockets were really not wrong.
I had reasons to dump it but I didn't
I had dropped it a few times in the wardrobe but of love and pity,
still picked it in minutes
"How would I ever mean it..."
But eventually I did it
After it cost me my phones, some costly naira notes
And some things I didn't really note.
I was vexed, with shaky legs my pant could feel it...
I got home that night, closed my eyes and ripped it.
Now I have a better white trouser and I still can't believe it.
This is not part of the poem...
We all have black trousers..
We love them so much that their hurt really doesn't matter..
We keep up hopes
though they cost us so much; time, money,vision, tear drops and much more...
But we still hope an cope...
We make excuses for them,
Give rooms for their mistakes
But they never seem to plan to change their mean ways..
We hold on to them like they are the final last
Like we can't live if they leave.
But how were we living before they came to pass.
Perhaps we could go back to that.
There comes a time when we let go our beautiful black pants
so to get some wonderful whites...
I hope a soul gets blessed by this.
You can Contact him for your wedding, birthdays, funerals, anniversaries, church programs and more on +2347061032793 or +2348173933821 solarspeaks@yahoo.com; follow on Twitter: @solarspeaks, Facebook: Adigun Clinton Olushola or Solarspeaks.
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