COLLINS CHINZAH ( Acrostic Verse )

Cheerful as a bird of morning sublime,
Offering a helping hand in a mime,
Loitering in the wilderness with a rhyme,
Lingering like a fairy in the sands of time;
Innings of toils and snares he endured,
Never failing and ending for sure,
Soaring high giving love's brochure.

Changing for the better, he opined
'Hollow years will turn into sunshine',
Itches and aches of sorrow left behind;
Nothing, of course, will lasts foerver,
Zest of pleasure will lasts no longer,
And in the end, all can't be winners;
He who have ears, let him hear it sober.