Ripe Hour
Don't fault me
that i don't clap my hands
There's a fire in my heart
that blazes like the midday rays
There's a zeal in my bosom
that pours out like clean springs
But i keep it at that
Don't fault me
that i make no haste
I see the walls breaking down
but i will not simply run
I see the devil's reigning
but i will not bow
until the hour, so ripe, strikes
poem by Timothy muggaga
Added by Poetry Lover
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