My name is Femi
And I am a son of the Library
A descendant of Scribes
In the lineage of Wallflowers.
I write what I will
I eat till I’m full
I dance to what beats my feet can keep up with
I talk and I laugh – though not so much
I read and I sleep
I say to myself;
“Life doesn’t get more interesting than this!”
Or does it?
Yes, it does actually.
On one fateful day blessed by the African sun.
In a season that should have been called “winter”,
He rose high up in the sky and breathed fire upon the sons of men!
“Why are you doing this?”, I asked.
He wouldn’t say
Or rather, I couldn’t hear
Instead, he glistened brighter as I made my way beneath the stratosphere of the planet that gave his existence meaning
As I trudged on, contemplating problems all introverts have,
My feet wondered the fields of an ancient realm – SUB
The Great Green pastures belonging to the sons of sport
Athletes of the football pitch!
Descendants of the Olympic gods.
It was a beautiful yet intimidating sight!
They ran on legs so fast with muscles so tight
Some had chest so big, you wouldn’t dare to pick a fight.
These ones, right?
Able to flip the brain switch of us scribes
Causing our words to rhyme; all day and night!
The irony of our small-chested lives
And that was when I saw her
She who makes time dawdle, like a silly joke.
The one who makes no other element matter;
(Scorching sun breathing fire,
Absent winter, brain of a wallflower.)
There she was among the sons of sport
An athlete of the football pitch
A Daughter of the field.
The sun had been unkind to her dark skin
Ever furious that it could not have her
The wind had thought to throw dust in her face and ruin her make-up
Before realizing she didn’t wear one playing football (duh-uh!)
Nor had she ever needed one
Being the “fairest” maiden of the field;
Chocolate in complexion
With the body of a goddess
In her blue spaghetti sleeveless top and black slacks
Her braids stylishly packed to the back with a special blue rubber-band
Her feet adorned with the sleekest black Nike trainers
And her eyes, peaceful yet wild, glanced at someone in my general directi–
“Oh! No”, I yelled at my hibernating brain “she’s looking at me”!
I looked around to confirm — and yes, was I right
I looked up at the Sun — fuming behind a clumsy cloud
I looked down at my feet — knowing this was one beat I couldn’t keep up with.
For who could ever think a goddess would be mindful of a mortal?
What truce amalgamates athletes and scribes?
A son of the library
A daughter of the field …
What powerful a weapon cupid decided to wield!
Yanking at my social fetters, I dared to wave.
A smile crossed her lips, betraying a mischievous thought, whispered by birds in a nearby tree.
I know not what they told her, but I know what they whispered to me;
I have more reasons to come to the field and perhaps she, to the library.
Trudging on with a smirk, I said to myself;
Life can’t get more interesting than this!
Or can it?
Oh – Yes, it can actually!