Your Days Are Numbered Poem by Ibrahim Bidu

Looking at you pant and grunt,
Listening to your words now,
And sometimes to the words of the helpful lady
Who announces politely and repeatedly
That the subscriber is nowhere to be found:
As we struggle with little success
To catch your eye now,
We wonder if it was you
Who was once rumoured
To have filled to brim
His pockets with stones
For fear of being carried away
By the gentle breeze.
We wonder whether it was you
Who was once at our beck and call.
What happened to your tune,
To which we danced lame?
What about the promises?
We slipped we admit
When from your pocket we sipped
And as you seek to replenish
What you never lost
And reaping where you’ve never sown
We sit and mourn.
Our eyes now see
Gone are the blindfolds
And so is the spell.
Your days are numbered!