IN THE CHEST OF THE OLD HAG

Oh how complex is age?
Known to have initially been tagged with sages
Until dawns saw kings living above sages in new pages!
Oh what is the coupling advantage?
That a lone femme traveller is seen on rampages
All her ails needing attention seeking bandages
One who spoke no sane languages
Until her garbage can is given as death’s wages
Tell me you on wisdom’s stages!!!

II
Does life come with a mirroring path?
Do partners fall like rain into cans of blooming femininity?
Each has fires of passions regretfully turned ashes
And sent into memories never to be revived
Each has a fantasy stuck in make-belief
With an ever hopeful prayer never to be answered
Each has a dream always cut short by wakefulness and baked sweats
Each has a flaw barring doors of chances in all enhancements
Why should pink be my crime of failure when many a blues live like me?

III
It is a baton of blessing since age
For one to have caught the eyes of cupid through adowa
Through to delicious preparations of fufu and lapeewa
It was graciousness for princesses to be handed princes and or warriors
On golden platters in exchange for their doll-hoods
Age has travelled west in jester-field
So I am an old cargo
A can needed to be booted with unseriousness
A hag with a harsh harsh-tag
A societal sheep flawed by not having at least a bully of a billy goat
But what can be done on these stakes?
Nothing but a lookout for the inscription of foolishness
On foreheads of the favoured
Lighting the fires beneath to have me roasted
When my meat is nothing even beasts like that can devour
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 2018