Are you a meteorologist of femininity
Reading through its seasons to pick?
Are you a weather so changing a blue
Combing through skies to lick?
Are you a fire, burning through seasons to kill?
You definitely must be a chameleon, reflective of every passing colour!
II
You picked me up like sunny season
Only to drop me in season rainy
Like a stale spittle in a royal mouth
To pick but a clone of me
One who fell from your branch by harmattan’s dawn call
Only for your cycle to continue with different specimen in season
Are you a wicked walking sky?
III
I pray
For you to be burnt by a hotter sun
Hosted by you to set at your will
I pray
For you to meet a fiery thunder
After an enlightening lightning strikes your cruel cue
I pray
For you to lose your lining silver
After one hot made clouds!
Pray
No harmattan drains your juices
After your taunting spells
Nature should be fair to call you to discipline
To give you a punishing crown of pain
For all the fallen seasons oh you wicked sky!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 9, 2018
Dear SiStar, To Smooth your way I sent you a gift a few minutes ago. Please check your emails. Enjoy! Love You!!
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Oh wow! You leave me speechless every time. May God bless you abundantly always. 😘😘😘😍😍😍😍
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Here, my Dear Cecilia, is one instance where I have a bone to pick with You. Just WHY do women, (all over the world), ‘Allow’ themselves to be ‘picked up?’ as You have in: ‘You picked me up like sunny season.’
Regards. 🙂
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Dear Sir, I believe now a woman or man can be “picked” up depending on a situation. Metaphorically, one is bound to fall before the other. And the word used is connotative rather than denotative. 😂😂😂
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