By Toheeb Jamiu
Just take me back to my childhood
When I would lie on bed shrouded
And cry aloud whenever I pleased
To announce how hungry and angry I was
Just take me back to my childhood
When I could play with mud without being scolded
And fly my kite to touch the eye of the sky
To display how busily unbusy I was
Just take me back to my childhood
When I could skip not only ropes but school
And avoid being void for not knowing tables
To trick my teacher I was weak during the week
Just take me back to my childhood
When I could eat rice thrice in the morn
And my belly became full like a soccer ball
To show mum I was starved and raved
Just take me back to my childhood
When I could wine and dine with kins and kiths
And put on my Friday wear like a nowhere boy
To attend a sailor’s or tailor’s demise or remise
Just take me back to my childhood
When I could possess and repossess the plastic ball
And act as the coach, player and referee all once
To decide when to goal or who to go
Just take me back to my childhood
When I was the husband of every woman
And my oracy trickled and fickled them
To believe I would grow up to be a polyglot.
Photo by trilemedia via Pixabay