A leg in the cold,

A leg in the warm,

My arms battle to fold.

I hear threats of harm

As I plod on a strange land.

My head is under the money charm

Rendering my heart sold

I yearn for a familiar arm

To ease this cold

But feelings of homely needs do my head smarm

Making me a bit bold

Age though sounds an alarm

Will I ever get enough gold

To fix the family farm

And escape the cold?

If only these diggers will stop their swarm

Like insects looking for food to store in wait of cold

I could finish up and get to be warm

In my own before I get old.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014


By amoafowaa

Just a simple Ghanaian trying to find the best in our society. I may be fun, I may be interesting, I may be funny, I may even be foolish or intelligent, but it is all based on the mood in which you find yourself. I believe our minds make us who we are. Know that, pain, no matter its 'unbearability', is transient. Unburden or delight yourself for a while in my writings please. And all corrections, advice and opinions are welcome. Know that you are the king, queen or royal on this blog. :)

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