Seldom trodden by lovers' feet,
this garden.
A sweet sinner, a rose flower,
the apostle's kin
by vigorous vows to meet and sing,
yet gists and screens muzzle the
acoustic strings.

Sorry, fourth reader.
Here-in is a memory just for three,
but if you please...
Join me sing the birth of talent,
and spirit,
and beauty, upon such hearts that
never and shall never cease.

Happy birthday,
Omobewaji.