my story

MY STORY

My name is joe de poet
I will be fourteen years old this coming October
My mother is a farmer, and
My father is just a village tailor.
I lost my elder sister when I was just two years old to cholera
And later, my kid brother died of malnutrition
I was just six years old by then.
We lived in a little shack at the foot of the hill,
Though a heavy storm made my family to migrate.
Even the plants we depend on for healthcare,
have been trampled upon by boots.
But I am happy their heavy trucks created footpaths in our slums.
We have become fugitives, with no lamps to lighten our paths.
My dad once told me his daily wage is just about 700 francs, quite impressive.
But I saw a man, and I love to be like him.
A well-tidied gentleman, he wore a white hair
And a long white linen agbada, surely from the best designer.
He sat on a sofa in his office with an A.C just centimeters above his head,
I was lucky to have seen him a few days after his medical checkup in the U.K.
Though I didn’t boder to know about his lifestyle,
I think he is a role model.

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