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Without their existence,
Many generations will fizzle out and
The world would be a stygian place to live.
A being that’s honest as the day is long
With an embellished beauty from
Head to toe, which makes her glow
In and out like a golden fleece.
I wonder where I would be
In umpteen phases to come.
I’ll cease to exist in spades and
My name would never make a dumb.
With her body, she cares and nurtures her progeny ably
With her heart, she loves and with her ears, she listens
With her soul, she understands and raised and
With her hands, she shapes the lives she upraised.
Her spring of love is the air that I breathe,
Under it, I live, as it is my sheathe,
A home to go to when everything falls apart
And her love, from me, I hope it never departs.
I pray she lives long to see us bring home the bacon
For she can’t be traded not even for the most
Existing valuable items in the world.
And million years to come ain’t enough for her to be rewarded.
© Khadijah Zubair Omowumi
©The Artistic Pen
Active Islamic journalism costs huge sums of money. To ensure quality and rich Islamic journalism, the support of readers and friends of the publication is required. Support us by donating via the account details below: Account Name: Standard Bearers Project Account Bank Name: Zenith Bank Account Number: 1014987008 Kindly call or chat; 07031357133 for more enquiry. Jazakum llahu khairan
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