Golden Fleece

Pumping through the boundaries like water out of a burst pipe they go beyond in search of that golden fleece. Leaving the yam and millet In hands of ''intellectual weaklings". Deserting their muddy palaces Resorting to restrooms yonder Good hands seasoned for hoes now tremble at the feel of paltry foreign notes. It's where ice-cream falls from the sky. So they say. Here the soil is "too brown". They set the stone abroad for those lofty buildings and leave to fall their homes. The fences crumbling like dry crumbs of bread. And years later,they return. Those with the golden fleece come with an arrogant streak. Clad in suits and hats. Muttering incoherencies from their mouth Or was it their nose? Disillusion evident in their "four eyes". Wriggling out of their "below-par" Papa's "peppering" embrace. Those whose search plummeted rush back to their roots like bee to nectar. Tears in their vanquished eyes. They cling to their oldies smelling the smell of home with as much relief as finding an oasis. Then,they are treated to a prodigal son's feast. Pounded yam,goat head and the likes. Then,they ravish the lot punctuating with musical belches. Then,they wallow in the warmth whilst singing 'home,sweet home' For tomorrow, work begins on homefront