I am not sick by looking back in time
it is just the nice things that
keep returning to my mind.
I remember the place near the laterine
where we all gathered in the
night to watch the sea pass
by with its wave washing the coastline
on its journey to somewhere
we could never tell.
The floods of images past
keep returning of those nice
girls who kept their breasts on
teasing us with their shaking backside
which moved as if they were responding
to Teacher Mensah's drums on
school parade on independence day;
Sometimes too, it is the aroma
of Alimah's wakye that woke us all
up from the little sleeps that we got
because of the mosquitoes and bedbug bites.
Then, zooms in the voice of Auntie Serwa
who calls in just when the football
match on the television set was
about to start especially on days
that Kotoko played Hearts of Oak.
My small head has been carrying
all of these events all these years and if
l sit down to talk about it
it is not because l am sick of today
it is just that yesterday keeps coming
to give me some pleasure.