The Old House Poem by Tony Adah

The old house really look old
And worn and weather beaten
So different it is from the sprawling city
Of the nouveau riche-
Those who pelted our commonwealth
And mounted it on the sketches of Kenzo Tang.

It is an old house
Thatched and mud walls
On the other side where the country folks live
And a contrast to the new town
The country folks are here
Saddled with toil and oblivion.

But the town spins on the rhythm
Of modern music
It is a magnet
That picks the filings of old and young
Men and women;
And the old house,
Only echoes with xylophones and folklores
This is where I was born
Where grandma harnessed power
From the moon at night
And told us that no change
Will touch our old house
We remain in oblivion
And so it is.