My table is full of flowers
Velvety petals I never received in my sprightly days
When I blossomed and thrived
Like golden daffodils in spring

A gift from my yester-love
Who swore to be an anchor
In these whirlwinds of debility
But switched nuptial allegiance
To my svelte aide
While I growled under pincers of stinging cells

I look in the mirror
I see me but not me
I am like the sketch of a talentless artist
Amidst the hurrying lines of this monitor
Droplets sneaking into my veins
Bland meals over sympathy visits
What lies on the other side?
A brighter hue?

My heart slips into turmoil
At the thought of the fate of my offspring
In the hands of a wily, bonus mother
I wish to still crack pistachios with them
Strike their noses with flour, in resounding cackles
Be their vibrant hues and shades, in this colourless world
I wish for them to search themselves
In the symmetry of my skin
I wish for a last tour of our enchanting garden
I wish for things untold
But this body, it no longer wants me

Ololade Olatunji is a poet and blogger with a passion for nature. She lives in Lagos.