This same ceremonial gown
he once wore
tasted flavours of the intellect
hungrily sucked
but now a full fledge falcon
busily nursing the falconer
manacled by fragrance of nostalgia
edifice of excellence and inspiration
he is to me forever
a slogan of imaginative dimensions
he is to me forever
out of his lips spills pure distilled intellect
humour his cryptic dancing beads smile
his crackling laughter I can now see
an open secret now is my dogmatic idol
behold! Eruv, the doyen of Arts, the dean
from whose critical intellectual tits I wean
By Dela Bobobee© 18/02/95
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