she has grown
like a pumkin in the garden
like the tendrils of the yam
like the stems of the iroko
she now knows shame
covering her self in the bathing gear
feeling her nipples yet covering it
running from her peers
she has grown
ripe for the suitors prey
dark as the sooting dust
left for the richest one
we are confused
she no longer plays with us
in the sands of our backyard
cooking sand as food
avoiding our moonlight tales
prepared to join the maidens
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem