The heat made him bleed sweat from his pores.
He pushed through the crowded streets
With a sack of vegetables on his back
” Agoo oo! Agoo oo!! ” he screamed.
As he made his way through the crowd.
The breeze began to change ,
Night was neigh
And as he walked slowly to his den.
His steps were heavy with
Worry and some emotion he had no name for.
A cardboard , some silk cloth and car tyres for pillow
This was home.
He wrapped himself for some warmth against the cold winds
But it didn’t really help.
He closed his eyes to pray,
An old habit his parents taught him.
But he remembered,
” it’s too cold outside, for angels to fly ”
In the darkness of midnight ,
He woke up again
Mosquitoes would not permit him to sleep .
There his eyes caught a glimpse of escape ,
He picked up the chalk
And wrote all his pain
” Accra too bitter ”