And she’s losing sleep over her wish
So indigent, daily she beseeched
The fire of her throat can’t be quenched
Praying to reap what she sowed
Her preparation is for your future to see
Concealing her hunger, she smiles for thee
Always peckish, to ensure your living
For your breath she never ceased slaving
Selling her gold and bronze to get coins
Mama, let your tears be dried
Your soul will soon be satisfied
The peckish days, you did conquer
Now is the time to offer,
Forget the past woes
Dry your tears, Mama!
Your will be the reward of the farmer
Your tears must be wiped away
It’s time to be clothed the Queenly way
To eat the joyous fruit
Your dreams and hope
Have come true!
Written by: Ogunwole Harzeez Orlanshiley Distinctwriter
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
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