Heels on fire

 

Friendly winds 

Of many seasons

Blowing in tune 

With the passing times.

Begone by yourself

And raise the dust,

My head is buried

Am yet undone

For these are times

For men with wits.

The boys must wait,

Whose flighty heels

Won’t just stay put,

For a matching age

Of glorious tunes

To come in time. 

Flightless birds

Feed on fallen fruits,

Flighty ones will chip away

And feed on the tree,

You never learned to walk

And yet you now must run.

They learn to fall

When they learn to walk,

For few indeed 

Are those who did otherwise.

Lose your step,

You can manage your fall

For the fall of this sort

Is a new beginning,

But anything short

Will be a crash indeed.

Begone by yourself;

My time is yet due,

For my base is shaky 

And I, still a youth.

- Bempillar Awuapila