SONATA

...
As I read through the letter
amidst fine tune of sonata
from my "akasanoma"
Sipping a cup of "latte", 
I laid in my lazy chair
under the oak tree for fresh air
There she sang soft a lullaby
lackadaisical passing by
I beckoned her,
she drew near
"My son Ata greets" l said
"Ei Kwaku!" (As she affectionately call him)
"What has he being doing in the streets of the city,
left behind me and the baby?
Ei, Kwaku, hmm!"
She gave a small gasp
as if she'd been stung by wasp
I relaxed in my lazy chair
as an old man with grey hair
listening to a piece of sonata from my akasanoma
I chorused a verse.
"Life in this e-arth!, is..."🎶
"You don't seem to care Kwaku papa"
She snapped and briskly dusted her feet in the air
with the size-bum-chale-wote she wore
"Hmm! Maybe because I am full of grey, 
they don't buy what I say
"Youngs" of today!"
I glanced through the letter
again and read the latter
"Ha! my son is in hell
Life in the city isn't cool to bear
The sages said it well 
"Babiara ne ha"
"Sonata!; here ends the letter"
A boring letter from my son Ata
Sonata! A replica of my son Ata.