PRESSING SECRETS

It was a ball

It was a ball being pressed deep

Deep into the sea

By the golden legs she needed to move

And the hands she needed for comfort

II

It was a bouncy ball

Which required all her strength,

Freedom and wealth

To keep under the sea,

From eyes seeking reverence

III

She thought of making it a stone

And keeping it in a hole

But feared a mole

And hated being seen as a guard,

A guard rooted on land

IV

She thought of making it a telecast

But feared the many pointing fingers

And the rotten teeth yapping

Like a machine wishing to impress its owner

And so opted for a ball under the sea

V

This ball, this ball has taken her life

It has taken all her wealth

And now is attacking her strength

Making her lose her grip on the ball

Oh! This ball called secret!

If only she had a way to defeat!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2015