We walked through a glass street door
Poised to be back in saloon room
Shake by wagging tale of unity where
Leaves fell from the bulging tree.
Tugged into clean muddy waters
Of a family yawning off hunger
In a land of abundant fruits
Carrying a huge cross of regret.
Took a three-sixty day of reflection
Dying in self-pity of the past
Hooked by words of ancient tree and
Roots sprout in covered soft layers.
In a place where friend fielded
In for a for in an ambush for glory.
An elite league of African legends
substituted in agony for the norm.