Primary school goers,
Riding on wheels of hope
Loins girded with shield of pangs after being slapped with life’s reality of hopelessness.
Little as they are,
To the beast side of life, they are exposed.
Early they scroll the streets of Iwo road,
Selling. Burning with passion as they roll the wheels with malnourished bare hands
With no feet to soft pedal
Penkele mesi, Penkele mesi.
That was the sound I heard in the corners of my emotional ears being made by the shaft of their wheels.
Tears rolled down my soul
And, for once, I paid obeisance to the Cosmic creator for my cradle telenovelas.
But, a better future they deserve, than exchanging the dejected legs for pale Nairas
That can only satisfy the yearning of the non-surgical moment.
No, they are no beggars.
They became masters with no guidance. Who knows? Maybe their parents where knocked on the head by mundane’ torrent bullet.
© Adekunle Adewunmi