The smoke coming out of my mother’s kitchen, when cooking has
been my muse. Especially when it starts to rain.
Hunting with friends, playing draught by the river side had most of my
days growing up .
Seems fair enough why being a child was much more better.
Having a clear conscience like a butterfly spreading it’s wings in the
Sunlight.

Remember the 80s? When boys with afro hair styles, rocks every
Street. When fela moved the country with his lyrics.
The freshness of the palm wine we drank, makes us to see beautiful girls
Like celestial beings.
The scars of the accident I had due to high speed, has been my lesson learned.
While we waits for dawn and recite sonnet to our girlfriends, after reading
books at night?
Wishing to marry ten wives but like fig leaves dropping, so was time.

Pounding into the pages of yesterday, holding a lamp in the dark
Still waiting to be impressed with my old age.
Gone were the days when men were boys. Glancing through my thoughts
all I can say is, i was once young.