Take Me Back To the Tryst
Take me back to the tryst
Love of ages is not my taste
Does stale love toast or fondle?
But toast is the soul of love:
When words summon words
Mirrorring the pumping heart.
Take me back to the tryst
Age is wear and tear of love,
Gravity on the wings of amity
Just back to the tryst
Where love floats on bouyancy of fond.
Love: youngest fruit on okoro tree
Easy shred , easy grate
The younger the sweeter
No , the soup of love sours not
The very minute it is cooked.
I say back to the tryst
There is no diminution in tenderness
But love decays with years and age
When earlier charm becomes stale or fade.
Take me back to tryst
Love of ages is not my taste.
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