You fling open
the door of a new year
♦
its hinges oiled with hope
keyhole a prelude
♦
to widening vistas
Uncountable windows peep
♦
behind a rampart of budding dreams
high, high where moonbirds
♦
lay their eggs for the hatching
touch of the dashing sun
♦
Harmattan blares in the air
Harmattan blares in the air
♦
Frying days, freezing nights
cracking pods, flying seeds
♦
the Northeastern has sown
wild needles in the wind
♦
The baobab trades
wrinkles with the bombax
♦
unsure what to do with the wind which
damns the skin and doctors the wound
♦
Harmattan blares in the air
My country thrashes about
♦
like a snake with a dying head
tottering from Amnesty to Armnasty
♦
Harmattan blares in the air
Throw open your door,
♦
Oh new year; adjust your tune:
our ears ache for a different song.
Reader Comments (1)
post a comment
* = Required information