Recession Poem by Babatunde Aremu
Recession
Gradual slide the steepy road,
Our streams tumble down
Rolling into deep gallows
Carting away our alluvia plains
Our land is dry
Its blossom is withered
Leaving behind thistles and thorns
Our hard-earned resources are vanished
A measure of barley is sold scarce
Technically or physically
We're rolling down the slope
Our future is in abyss
We're are moving down the river road
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4/25/2024 3:50:19 AM # 1.0.0.1119
