Around the food stores he hung,
Pockets like sacks, both sides of his gown,
Vegetables that caught his fingers, in the sack flung,
Onions, meat, spared not even salt.
On way home, glassy eyes in guilt rove,
His kitchen spectacle made his feet halt,
Ha! Another sticky finger had stolen his stove.
Written by: Kunle Omope
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.