People of the Past

 Where are those people I left in the past

have they become memories, existing only in the realm of thought,

abstract figures

 full of life, blood and guile living

The house in Ikeja, the policemen who guarded it

the tilers in Lagos

The widow in Port Harcourt

The waitresses  in Ghana

The taxi man who took me to the park

the bike men in Seme

the policemen in Togo

The border guards in Abijan

the driver in Ireland

the shopman in Dubai

the kind shop guy in Malaysia

our paths crossed once in eternity,

I remain a hallucination, 

you remain etched in my thoughts 

immortalised by my words 


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