Just
Thirty four years you lived
A life
Too fast
A life
Too short
With three children
Ages
Seven going to eight
Age
Three going into four
Age
One going into two
But I did wet your parent's streets
With tears shared for those early morning
Washing and fetching of water for our sleeping wives
But that's not your high scores
Because
Every one says
Your 've nice man
Everyone says
You 've never oppress the poor
Every one says
You 're the ideal
Dream husband of two women
Everyone says
Your family disapproved of Iya Michael
Everyone says
You 've died too soon
Every one says
You 'll never talk
Even when there is need to grow mad
And now
Your six feet below
Everyone now says
Here lies a Goodman
Whose death was fast forwarded a little?
Either by bloodstained human hands
Or the long penciled hands of his idols.




POEM BY OHWOJEVWE ESE GANIYU