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for the tough part of the street.
I am the words
of a beggar,
the pleas on his face.
I am the dirty spills
that lingers in the blouse of a trader
I am the sweat
dangling on an ‘Alabar’s body
on a cold afternoon
I am the future
of unlearned children patting wheels by
I am the tongue
voicing the prophet’s morning call
the sound of his bell.
I am the noise of the market women
the sweet words posing their wares
I am the shield
for homeless boy
standing with a fallen dream
…I am hope
the future of the street
Written by: Adedayo Adeyemi Agarau
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
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Didnt get the theme until towards the ending. The early part of the poem didnt quite convey hope to me..I think.
But thanks for sharing though
Sometimes, melancholy overlooks hope sir