Fairy she may be
In an unfancy land, she termed it to be.
Icy land she resides
Thousands miles away she slides;
As though a fairy to me,
But quick a friend to be.
Africa, my land, she wished was hers
I laughed and shook my head (in Jalingo I was nursing scars).
You don’t want to be in my land I returned
She wouldn’t yield, her own land, she scorned,
With cold I don’t concur
And heat’s wrath I’d rather not incur.
But I love a cool weather, she ignores
Pardon me; this talk’s a bore…
Here I am, there she is.
My sweaty palm, her cold lips.
I wish I could swap places
She wished she could do that too.
But then again, you don’t want to be there, I bet you!
Icy Friend, Ireland is your land…
I love The Corrs!
Do you know them?
Written by: Deenuz Emiabata Kharmour
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.