I am in my prime
That is not a crime
The notion that is so slime
As to mime
And at the same time chime
About my preferences without being given a dime
And wasting your time
You must wipe clean as the smell of the armpit is done with lime
I can immerse myself in dope
So much so that not even the prayers of the pope
Can help me elope
And I can mope
Drink and walk in all kinds of slope
And refuse to with everybody cope
Always drenched with the hope
That I will be able to escape the rope
Yet can get into the bathing tub with lots of soap
In memory I can have my plot
Build fanciful buildings on the lot
And places of comfort jot
While many a fresh people do me sought
Nothing in this world will be too much to be bought
And many for me might have fought
Without my attention and ended up in court
There’s no baby in the cot
And my clothes are clean without a dot
Yes, all my misgivings will never be caught
After all I am in my prime, very beautiful
And very colorful
With all things sorrowful
Passing as fast as possible though I’m a handful
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia, Nov. 7, 2013.
Mum Cee 