PEOPLE ARE MY WINGS I am a bird Created without wings My furs are light And my skin is open to the wind. My eyes are bright I’m focused like an eagle I see clearly even at night And the sun’s light never scares my vision So I’m both nocturnal and diurnal. I’m a singer Nightingales praise me too I sing morning and night I have no water I have no food But when I sing, my stomach is filled. Call me a mysterious bird I will concur with glee I’m not jealous because I admire other birds as they fly But as they fly, the melody from my poor mouth Attract them, and they thank God for my voice. On the Iroko’s zenith I aim to sing; A tree where the eagles dine A tree where all eyes begs to eye A tree where the angels pray that we attain But unfortunately not all attains. Daily I become kin to sing on its top Because I believe my voice has a hope Though still poor And having heard people around attesting to its melody As th