Ever since you left those dry streets and rusty shackles,
you have moved, undetected, into a city of magic.
Your air, fresh and pure, yet untainted
by the desperate hands of capitalism;
your waters, clear and clean, yet unperturbed,
freshness is a seed of its own inside of you.
You have won the allures of beautiful giant birds landing into your suburb
as they offload multiple eyes to witness what you have become.
You have won the hearts of wordsmiths
as pyramids of books are built in your belly and across your environs.
You have won the bowels of the nation,
an array of enchanting cuisine, testimonies of sumptuous propensities.
You have won the gaze of men,
feminine charms and cups of humble palm wine amplify the gaze.
With clean streets to lay on,
moonlit nights over palm fronds,
green life that reels out imageries,
a raffia enclave nearby with tales yet untold,
and the aquatic splendour, some distance away, where beauty settles,
yours is the insignia of tranquility,
and the elixir that swells the pen’s ink.
Written from the text prompt of Hour 24.
Featured image source: TripAdvisor