STOLEN SIXPENCE

STOLEN SIXPENCE   Boys played a game in school Stealing of pens no matter how This, they called, ‘tapping’ by name Our fathers worked in far away land Sending money for our books and fees While some relished in squandering   I went home from school without a pen And wondered what to use next day I stepped into the room of Akpan Nya The man of the house in father’s absence On his table was a world receiver And coins scattered in front of it   Loud sound blared from the transistor radio Drowned the silent voice from within me As the silver sixpence caught my fancy With sticky fingers drawn to the table My pocket was by six richer than before And the dash to a safe place was swift   Alarm blew on the missing coin And a wrong guy was accused False finger pointing brought hot tears More than the pains from a cane My cousin wept and couldn’t be consoled So he begged God to punish the thief   I stood there looking at his sorry sight Guilt gripped my faint and frightened heart As prayer of punishment reign the air This dark secret created fear in me Though I was not caught or so-called I prayed in return for God’s forgiveness   It dawned on me, from the pains I witnessed That this was not the bad boy’s game Of tapping or stealing of pens in school And the charge, ‘Thou shall not steal’ Haunt me from then to this very day   I dread being around a thief So that I won’t be suspected along I hate tapping in what ever name Knowing the pains it can cause Get behind me all stealing rats I learnt my lessons long ago