My palace is aflame
I know not why,
Oh i know, but care not to tell.
On the roof it burns so bright,
Tell me, can a man sleep with fire in his bosom?
My queen is the fire,
The fuel for sure is me,
Who shall beg the queen?
Please put out her flames.
She rants, she raves,
Oh she screams but moves me not,
No movement but in my loins.
I took a younger wife, I’ll take one again.
If you can pacify the queen,
Tell her there’s more to come,
The belle eyes me in the village square.
© shola Amaraibi