Blossoming Mama Africa.

Dear blossoming Mama,
As I sit under my father’s almond tree,
I think of you I sigh,
Hoping none of my fears come to life.

Wings more than yours will be begotten,
For these fruits we look forward to,
I hope you are enrolling in the school of life?

Your breasts,
I hope they stand firm on the beginning of wisdom?

Mama,
Do you remember how the society scolded you?
Don’t do less for we need more,
As you paint your face to glow,
Please decorate our morrows with morals.

Away! Sons and daughters who’ll sell our sweats off,
Be gone! Chiefs who take our lambs leaving their herd.

©ARKore ’20.