TROUBADOUR 

On my way to the funeral of a troubadour 

I came to the place where the road forks

Trees pointed the way but I couldn't be sure

I yearned for a pointer that talks 

Along came a friendly fellow

Greetings I offered but mute he remained 

Anger would have risen but mine stayed mellow

Pointers I must get,all the gods be named 

Which way to the Trobadour's I ask

Grave of visage he became, 

As I placed on him Sisiphus's task

I waited but the words never came

Palm on laps he hit

And foot on floor,a funny rhythm he beat

Eons passed, and Alas,facing left

He pointed right

Ahead I trudged,of left I was sure

For only a weary traveller

Would put his fate on the tongue of a stammerer 

On his way to the funeral of a Troubadour   

Nnaemeka Ugochukwu 

@IamTheEmeka