Ada In Ada George Poem by venessa ambrose

I hear say,
She talk say,
Then talk say,
He talk say,
I talk say,
Ada don come back!

The gong of the drums runs through the land,
like a bush fire it spreads,
dancing whispers in every ear,
and playing Azonto to the locals,
the news is fresh from the local gossip,
even the road side beggar ache to listen.

The prodigal daughter is returned,
From her journey to the west,
She brought with her lots of void,
And tales to feed a man,
And dashed the dreams of many,
With her White -tales of a dark west.

When leaving our land of black gold,
She fled with smiles,
And all the coins buried in history,
Buried deep in her family lineage,
Gotten from the toil in black soil,
Ecstatic to depart the black region.

We waited for her,
Long long years of waiting for Ada,
By sunset and sunrise we waited,
We packed our bags to the port,
Not a single letter or a call,
Form our daughter Ada!

Today she returns,
With a bag full of adventures,
Stories and tales form her thin lips,
And a truck full of disappointment,
She bring to us the sorry news,
Of a bad investment.

I heard that she now leaves by the street,
Cultivating her once fallow farm,
Wielding the tools she ran from,
And wearing the wears of this land,
That all I heard,
The story of Ada!