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My Village
A warm Sunday morning,
Waking up to the rooster in the back,
Motorcycles fill the road with an alarming roar,
A quiet morning in my village is a hidden gem in the stack
So occupied, we miss breakfast,
Together, cleaning the house is a necessity
For lunch, fufu and egusi
That is my natural remedy.
As time speeds by, the sun goes down
Sweat trickles from the faces of those who frown
Poking the eye like a loose eyelash
A wish is made upon the star in the sky
And the life of the house slowly dies.
Before I gather the strength I have left,
As if blessed by the Lord for he knows the Best
Smiles meet the faces and lighten up our world
Eager for the morning and to satisfy my everlasting rest.
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This piece is about my life back home in Nigeria. It goes through a usual Sunday in the neighborhood.