Change Poem by Oduro Bright Amoh

Follow the steps of ancient feet.
Rest your arms on grandfather's chair.
Old skins drum a better beat;
Trophies won from combing grey hair.

The sun is ripe today and tomorrow too,
Old moon will still rule the night.
No matter where we come from or to,
Death will still be our final fight.

You cannot cross your river twice
Mixed with tears waters will flow.
Blossoms will sprout from this dead advice
To make the bank of our rivers glow.

Times have changed, though it ticks the same,
Our father's health is our disease.
A new rule should rule this rulers' game
If we are to enjoy this ease.

The tree which provided predecessors with shade
Bears an author's name or wipes his stool.
To think that old stories will never fade
Is entertainment to the fool.