Zita poem submitted

I lost a ring

As a Safari it was good

First time in Africa West

As by the sunlit beach I stood

‘Midst strangers, a lonely guest

Only yesterday I was crying

As while walking I had lost

A golden ring and I was trying

To find it at any cost

I gave up and sat on a rock

While a tramp, stood in the gale

Looking as if to take stock

So I told him my sad tale

It was my father’s precious ring

Which his own dad had given him

As in bed he lay dying

Of an illness painful, grim

The tramp took me by the hand

Combing every corner and nook

Turning every inch of sand

However long, the time it took

I was ready to take defeat

But no, not this strange ally

Who I had the chance to meet

As he was just standing by

Finally he stood up in glee

‘There it is behind the reed!’

And shining there, I could see

My father’s precious ring indeed!

He firmly refused my reward

Not even a drink in the bar

‘Your got your ring, Thank God!

It’s the best reward by far!’

So on my trip to Africa

Not only did I find my ring

But that ‘humanity exists afar’

That was the more precious thing.