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After many hearsays
I could no longer wait
So I visited the Zimbabwe

I passed through Uke
surprisingly, it’s a village
that looks like old Mugabe

I became ensure of the name
It is an unfortunate case
the ground is decayed
painted by the rain

But who invited it again
Within me I complain
‘cos it has wrecked the place
and now reduces my pace

I sit on a bench
and ask to be served
a bottle of green Sherbet
I’m still ready to spend
even with the bar’s stench

How I wish, so badly
that this romantic cocktail
could have happened
in the main, the main Zimbabwe

Jefia Voschimeze Dede