|
JUST A COB OF CORN
watching helplessly the groans of my siblings
lieing hopelessly on the floor of the hut
As they wreath and roll
under the painful chitches of hunger.
The scorching sun penetrates rudely
Through the weather beaten thatches of the hut
More severe the pains become
Because they had not eaten for three days.
Father returned from the farm
with nothing to save the situation
Soberly he raised his bristled hands
Disfigured by endless clearing and hoeing
Recounting the ordered of the past years
Weather and rodents being unfriendly to his crops
The longer he continues to work
for just a cob of corn
|
