At the centre of the village square,
Under the pregnant mango tree
Where the moon embraces the sun
Casting shadows of our embrace to the ground;
Serving as a witness to what we shared.
Fayọ̀bí, my family has been waiting,
There’s surplus palm wine for our union
The obì and orógbó awaits to be broken.
The ìlèkè on the women waist sways rhythmically,
as they dance the dance of the drums.
Fayọ̀bí, we didn’t agree to this,
ọkọ mi, don’t put me to shame
If it’s the fear of bride price, don’t bother
My womb rejoices ahead to bear your ìbejì.
Fayọ̀bí mi, it is night already,
The palm wine has gathered flies,
The women are now tired of wriggling their waist.
Maami’s tongue won’t stop being a viper.
At the centre of my father’s compound,
Just like the nights the moon bear witness;
and the leafs from the trees blush to our love.
ọkọ mi, I’m still here, waiting.
What do you think?