Where I come from, drums speak and so does cloth

Weavers create poetry out of textiles

Tell stories with colours

Purples for healing

Black for age

White for new life

And Everytime I woke up from bed,

I am greeted by my baby pictures

wrapped in Kente cloth

a patched work of my parents hope for me

A month more to go

To embrace my fears of Adulthood

To catch a cruise of the adult struggle

And the one question that pops up in my mind Everytime

“How many times do I need to kiss frogs before a Prince”?

Image: pixabay