It had become a routine trek lately
Borne not for leisure but a cling for survival
But with every less pace away from the destination
Came the gradual plummet of his virtual hopes
His living room, saved by the uneven weak rays
Given off by flames from his old rugged kerosene lamp
But still not enough to warm the his family
Nor rid the gloom that questioned his capabilities
The excitement that greeted his return had vanished
No more would his lads anxiously peep through the windows
Watchful in their wait for his ‘worthy’ return
To ravage the chocolates that lurked in his pockets
But times had changed and tunes as well
The rodents have pitifully deserted his room
The ajar mouths to fill and Nile-like bills to pay
Plagued his soul as though a Pharaoh by Moses
Once more he was aface his destination
With frail fingers punching and fixed eyes on the screen
Wishing luck could single him out for wage payment
Alas, his 4-digit balance remained decimalised (N21.49)