An autumn of events
my fortune shed its leaves
and flew away into the dastardly wind,
by the novel of bitter destiny,
but it was non-deciduous, as my riches
A cool wind murdered the warmth from
my body, made naked by wretchedness,
my hands, living sackcloths, clothed only
a decimal of my body from the chills
the sun shined hypocritically,
telling me things were going to get better,
but the siege of chilly winds still proceeding,
I only prayed to God for survival,
and guess what?
By Kakraba Afful
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