On this Harmattan Avenue
With the bills of the cold dawn long gone, The bliss of restless sunshine rises In the armpit of the Harmattan avenue. The grey scales of the sky spins, As the pale air parts the lines, In the arms of the Harmattan avenue With the heatstrokes of the noon shades, The light dusty particles rises to our toast, In the hands of the Harmattan avenue. On this dry streets of a season, The thirsty streams swings sluggishly, As the wailing withering leaves drops, In the corridors of the Harmattan avenue. From this Harmattan avenue, Accept my best wishes of the season. Greetings to you. ©KYB ✍πΏ16/12/23