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To polish dead trees
Carved into houses for the late
For your like, now louses
If none is lost you’ve lost
‘No market’ you dare lament
So pleased at tumbled molue
And seeing bereaved of the rich
You welcome with marketing tears
Still praying for future patronage
Your smiles oppose
Termites you made to smile too
Your shelves carry messages
‘Return to dust’ is a wish
Sure, there is also one
One, for yourself, Mr. Trader
Written by: Anold Ali Ovurevu
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
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