Accra Too Bitter 

Noonday ‘s sun was his foe .

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 ”

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