Tabitha, though I know by faith measuring jars
That like a snail, your shell does descend
And with Him, your soul do ascend
But come, mother, I‘ll buy you a better dwelling
That neither Earth nor Mars compare
That neither Saturn nor Neptune equals
If there are any more…
None surpass this which I offer you
Here—the palm and other trees blossom green
And there is no acquaintance with toil or tire
Now if these do just but little gladdens you
Come mother, come, and live in my poem.
Andrew Bula teaches Literature (which includes Creative Writing) and Use of English in the Department
of General Studies at Baze University, Abuja.