When I came to the nursery and I learnt
That the fine flower has left for the field,
Then I thought...'you are not far away.'
I have something of yours: Your name, in my head;
Your face, in my eye, even so painted
Under lids; and your scent in my heart.
I have something of yours, that I will use to call you up in shades
To hear me in the confessal; something of yours coveted
-Letters and numerals weighed on gold scale.
Igwe Kalu
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/xx-coveted/
