Divine Fruit Poem by Bartholomew Arkoh Boamah Sarbah

No cross; no crown
Therefore be a man in every situation
For it is true;
If wishes were horses beggars would ride
And if money were on trees;
Women would marry monkeys
But man proposes; God disposes

Your eyes glanced at mine to reveal a pathetic secret
Those saddened eyes of yours
I could feel they were weary
Your bright dark skin turns darker
Due to lengthy suffering under the sun
And your body reveals the very machine that supports it
But to my surprise there is none broken

So I know;
Hard work breaks no bone
With narrowed eyes I bowed my head and heard you say;
Heavens help those who help themselves
From that moment I knew what you wanted;
The divine fruit of hard work.