a poem by UKAONU DORIS OBIANUJU, Nigeria

Come tomorrow and you would see that my wax is a different kind of ice that never melts.
See that the basket I carry holds an ocean.
The seed of today indeed made my morrow whole,
Sunk in the soil, and watered not to wither.
Now my morrow cries foul for your ignorance.
Tomorrow is warm,
Tomorrow is smile,
Tomorrow is come,
Tomorrow is now.

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