I had to hit the waves
And leave the shore
Sleeping in the caves
And, I met Mi Amore
The tours in the desert
The walks in the sea
Even as a revert
The colour was on me
Buildings, as I arrived
Is all I could see
Other people lived
Just not like me
Now I miss the weather
The waves and the seas
In fact, I miss my mother
Some stars and some trees
I am standing by the station
As I am writing this poem
Representing my nation
Those, who ran from home
Searching for some fame
For some gold, to build a name
There’s a better world we have back home
Don’t pack your bags to find one in Rome.
This poem was published in the 9th Issue of PoeticAfrica magazine.
Please click here to download.
Read – She Yearns, Africa Yearns – Comfort N. A. Okyere (Ghana)
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