Tuesday, 8 February 2011
Squeaky, overworked beds take over
After the lights go to sleep
And a symphony of snores crescendoes
From the chambers of the uninspired.
Everybody and everything that goes
Back and forth and back and forth
finally sweats to a halt; even if
For just a few hours till they
regain enough energy to start
Going back and forth and back and forth
All over this beautiful city again.
The mask we wear in the morning
Is not the one we greet Night with.
If you still think her softest spot
Is her heart, you haven’t found good use
For your blessed fingers yet.
Proper probing yields great results.
Accra, you’re a beautiful place to know…
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