A LETTER TO PAPA
Tell Papa I made it.
The breeze of pains have fallen the Iroko.
Its anguish hidden in the roots.
Tell Papa I've tried counting the stars but I ended up becoming one of them.
Let Papa know I've always cherished the smashed plantain from his farm.
The city chops are nothing compared to the smell of Bush meat from our farm house.
Remind him of how I would compliment Mama's soup just to have his smile.
I smell fresh bread. Papa it's from my bakery.
Come eat from it like I savoured each bite you bought.
Sugar is sweet honey is sweeter.
But none could be compared to your sweet lullabies.
Buy Papa a soft foam for his bed. His backs are weak.
But I'll lay on his stomach of wisdom.
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| WISHES. |
Tell Papa I made it.
The breeze of pains have fallen the Iroko.
Its anguish hidden in the roots.
Tell Papa I've tried counting the stars but I ended up becoming one of them.
Let Papa know I've always cherished the smashed plantain from his farm.
The city chops are nothing compared to the smell of Bush meat from our farm house.
Remind him of how I would compliment Mama's soup just to have his smile.
I smell fresh bread. Papa it's from my bakery.
Come eat from it like I savoured each bite you bought.
Sugar is sweet honey is sweeter.
But none could be compared to your sweet lullabies.
Buy Papa a soft foam for his bed. His backs are weak.
But I'll lay on his stomach of wisdom.
Read more