Love is like that blind baby searching his mother,
Dumb in calling her names,
Deaf in hearing his own names,
Weak in seeking for helpers,
Died in longing alone.

Now what should I compare that blind baby of mine,
Would I call him a yearly orphan,
Should I nickname him street child,
What would I do his sight, I asked,
When would his longings complete, I know not.

O mother won't you hear the cry of this blind baby of your's
Father won't you hold this fragile baby of your's,
When would your loneliness teach you lesson,
When would you know the mistakes of the past,
O behold your blind baby forever.

© Nwankwo Johnson C.