The Ending. Poem by Adeosun Olamide

I was going to be old, until you came,
Cold blue, yellow, white eyes,
Eyes that lured my body away

You knocked gently on my door to be brought in,
But I was blind and could see not your cold blue, yellow, white eyes.
My body tried to warn, a warrior; it signaled with an illness, broken, it protested your stay,
But you were warm and warmer than your cold blue, yellow, white eyes.

But my body, was it lured or stolen, seized against its will,
Plagued that it now cries at the weight of my weightless soul?
Or is it tired of me and love now a grave than the places we could have been?
Its leaves have all shed, and the twigs, dried and broken, under your cloud,
But I remain in the root, where it has kept me,
How, my soul has outgrown my body.

I loved this body, that loved me too,
We loved the light and had no fear of its ability to blind,
And loved the waters and had no fear of drowning
But it now float scarcely as it sees scarcely and sees only the cold blue, yellow, white eyes
That it once never loved.

I believe there was a time it saw her eye but pretended to look away, when it heard her but listened to me,
When it healed though I had it bruised,
When it recalled the faces of my own,
Then, It promised a youth, but so brief I do not recall

But were there, times too I could listen to it,
And failed like it failed in its promises to me,
And promised it a bathe, a walk, a caress,
but gave it none
But there were such times it wanted shelter; and for it I stole.

It has conveyed me through the deep and dark and cold
And has brought me love and mercy and love and kindness
But now it goes, and goes to rest or dance or blossom in the earth, in the arms of the one with the cold blue, yellow and white eyes
Leaving me with the waters, uncovered, unprotected, not to float like the water, but to drop evermore like a coin