A weedy path to your heaven
Makes me want to stay in hell
An acrid scent in your treasure
Makes me cough and choke
So I’ll rather choose hell
It’s amazing how bad a gardener you are
When your master gave you so beautiful a garden
Even this farm hand, cannot help harvest
Because of fears of snakes, insects, and sharp leaves,
Because of being choked to death by mono gas
Please tend to your garden
Mend your heaven and let’s live in peace
Mend it first, and I’ll help tend to it
Then when the stars go to sleep,
We’ll hold our hands and step into its temple of bliss.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014
Mum Cee 