Of A Nation Poem by Timothy Faboade

Though we started very late
After our numerous mates
Who came to from heaven
Bring us forth to this oven,
We threaten the largest size
We hope to like morning rise
When we've been driven
Into the world and given
A fine, newly minted, name
Said to be full of fame.

We got a face and colour
After numerous years
Of our birth branded with fears
Among our peers we've dishonour.

She left when we're about to crawl
Gave us many growth laws
And went to her far away bed
Leaving us to fetch our bread.

But a long rope ties our legs
So tiny and very very weak
To the extent that we've to beg
When our secrets leak.

Sixty later, we can't try to walk,
Our loud voice isn't heard
Though noisily we talk,
All the laws on us are hard.
Far there she and others laugh
At us and our ailing strength
That takes us to no length
Of the road and its half.

Our Moseses are our brothers
Who like us need more wonders
As we strive to be out of the wood
And build our own nice hood.