His road seem short
But his legs tell tales of tiredness
His unkempt hair
Ruling and hiding his handsomeness
Forcing his eyes to wear a mask of the mocked
This tongue had to beckon
After a great mind made him up
Plantain chips in a huge bowl is his burden
Day and night
A burden he needs to be rid of
Before the doors of his tiredsome home give way
To his tired feet
So I asked for his story

A mother cruelly taken by unsympathetic death
Has rendered him a burden
And his tears start to flow
His sorrow started to rain
Through the eyes which were needed for legs to
Ply long routes to hawk
From SSNIT Flats to Sagnerigu
And I can’t help but press his tired lean body to mine
Hoping to heal some broken dreams
His tears clouding the sky
He did no wrong
He has no fault
Ten or eleven or twelve
Life is too dark in the skies he thread
And I see myself lost in his world
And wonder if he will go through the same things as I
Prayers in my heart
Prayers for the pain to pass him by
Prayers, prayers to renew his tired soul
And make his aunt see him as his
For the Orphan Kofi
Is no name to keep in a rubbish heap
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

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. :)

2 replies on “HIS TOUCHING TEARS”

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