A lonely sunset bird walked home
We watched him go
Then we strolled until we came to the field
The empty field
The barren field

There the old man stopped and pointed
It used to be a forest once
We felled the trees, to make of it a garden
But someone forgot to plant the seeds
The rains, they came in vain

Washed away
And now the sun burns away –
And as we strolled away again he said
That field is another wasted generation
That fruitless field.

– CHE CHIDI CHUKWUMERIJE.