In an alien space, miles away from home,
Searching for a place where the land is loam.
Wandering high and low like tide in the sea,
Searching for leaves of the golden tree.
Leaves of the golden tree, leaves of bliss
Some shed in the harmattan, into the abyss.
Even when I am standing in this bower,
Eluding me still, the leaves shower.
While I cry, some children dance in a large meadow
And a farmer embarks on the journey to Eldorado.
In the dimness of the early morning's glow,
Hastening his footsteps, clutching his hoe,
The farmer walks towards his farm, his Eldorado.
For in his heart does he know
To plant the golden seed, to start the plough,
The time is ripe, the time is now.
Warrith Olawale
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/leaves-of-the-golden-tree/
