A fifth the height of my dad, I prided my joy on riding my BMX bicycle.
Like a true African monkey, climbing trees especially guavas was delightful.
Overcoming the shallow pools and moving to the deep end was a sign of maturity.
Those were the days that will never be.
As I grew even taller, my obsession with baking cakes grew.
Like an African slave in big mama’s kitchen I sieved bag after bags of flour.
In the steps of my mum, I mastered the skill of not ending up with a sunken cake.
I still remember the rules that kept me through, never open the oven door too early!
But it had a premature end when dad banned me, ‘Stop wasting the gas’, he shouted.
When my breast and bottom grew even bigger, my views of the world changed.
A full grown woman, playing the game in keeping afloat the sea of adulthood.
A lingering desire that you will come out laughing at the end is only hopeful. Decisions whether grave or wise continually remodel your state of mind.
Every decade of life is like a ball of knitting wool,
in different shades and textures, and like cats we often make a mess.
Go steady at the right pace and find your true crochet needle
Make a pattern of life that is truly divine and worth every minute.