The orange tree shakes it's branches for it's fruits to fall
They fall down the hill side
Oh! Oh, what a fall
The strangers pick them up and carry them away. Orange, yellow, and shades of green, their colours their divisions sway
Oh! Oh what a fall
On chance meetings in the market square. They ask one another from different baskets going everywhere Are you an orange? No, I am not! Are you an orange? No, I am not!
I am, organic grown
I am handpicked
I am packaged up
I am boxed in
I am powdered round
I am bleached down
I am American stamped
I am British squeezed
I am French cut
I am Dutch peeled
But when they are fully grown, and the orange tree shakes it's branches for them to fall,
They fall once again, orange yellow and shades of green,
Down the hillside
But they do not remember their fall
Oh! Oh, what a fall.
YOU ARE READING
AFRICAN POEMS
PoetryUniting Africa using our pens. most of what is studied in schools in Africa are about other races and this produces a dissociative trend among students who are the next generations. African Poems seeks to fill this gap by focusing on African issue...
