I was seven years old, when I learned how not to be told
To politely say “no thank you”; to a cup of bubbly coke, so cold.
But aunty Hafsat kindly beckoned, so I searched for Mama’s opinion
Her smile was warm and friendly, as an angel solidly behind me.
I zoomed in on her lips, praying that they’ll birth a “Yes”.
And as the prayers of each new day are met, by the brilliance of the sun’s rays
So the words from mummy’s lips, made my heart to scream hurray
But in a fleeting glimpse of lightning speed, I caught the movement of her eye lids.
Then the eerie sound of that voice that spoke from her eyes,
That familiar voice as cold as hard ice.
It was a day I’d never forget; of this, Mama was willing to bet.
And though my throat itched as the hairy back of a goat,
I turned to aunty Hafsat, and politely declined the rugged wall.