Are we in three-point turn in the middle of the road at midday?
Thrombosis. The tinker has left his tinkling behind.
Tintinnabulation. Tintinnabulation. Tintinnabulation.
A gypsy has passed by and everybody is tipsy.
I am returning to the throwback where thrush has started its life.
Three-legged race. Thrisps swarming till warm days.
The threshold of a doorway has drifted away.
The tinker has passed by and nobody has seen him.
Because we are angry, quarrelling with our gods,
striking each other, scolding each other, shouting and running here and there.
The gypsy has passed by and everybody is touching the end of the pot.
His tinkling is clear in the muggy midday in the distance in our hearts.
Tintinnabulation. Tintinnabulation. Tintinnabulation.
The restless tinker has passed by, leaving the trail of his walk below the mound.
Uncle Ebo Wheelbright a Ghanaian poet and past contributor to One Ghana, One Voice.
If you have a poem in memory of President Mills, please send it to us at oneghanaonevoice(at)gmail(dot)com.
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