Aug 9
In Accra’s streets, the ballots danced,
Two rivals met, yet peace advanced.
The people spoke, the land stood still,
And change was born of the people’s will.
Now Lagos hums with a restless beat,
Abuja whispers of polls to meet.
Tinubu’s torch, Jonathan’s flame,
Each seeks to etch a lasting name.
If hearts hold fast and tempers rest,
If truth is worn like Sunday’s best,
If courts are swift and guards are fair,
Then peace will crown the votes we bear.
But Nigeria’s road is long and wide,
Storms may gather on either side.
Only when all choose calm, not fight,
Will 2027 match Ghana’s light.
Two rivals met, yet peace advanced.
The people spoke, the land stood still,
And change was born of the people’s will.
Now Lagos hums with a restless beat,
Abuja whispers of polls to meet.
Tinubu’s torch, Jonathan’s flame,
Each seeks to etch a lasting name.
If hearts hold fast and tempers rest,
If truth is worn like Sunday’s best,
If courts are swift and guards are fair,
Then peace will crown the votes we bear.
But Nigeria’s road is long and wide,
Storms may gather on either side.
Only when all choose calm, not fight,
Will 2027 match Ghana’s light.
