Adorned in our Monday best we were set loose;
blue uniforms
elegantly starched
pressed and patterned
with saintly white stars.
Like the school girls we were
voices rang shrill almost in sync
our feet caught in the rapture of uncertainty
and a morning which stretched for eternity.

We marched on and the land came alive;
a multitude of rickety stalls
a mosaic of warm, smiling faces behind the
wooden pulpits selling a million sugary wares
delightfully wrapped in bright rolls
ready to feed our swelling ranks.

And to school we went;
questions plucked our youthful hearts
as we half listened to the exaggerated snippets
the petty rumors regurgitated from conversations
of the night before when parents spoke in clear tones,
certain we were too young to know.

Did those streets keep a memory of us?
Did those arteries remember our songs as we cut through
the well-worn paths?

Eyes eager with the bounty of the moment
we had it all:
our hearts
our feet
our streets
and friendships forged in the lazy dust
which carried everything and us
in and out of those childhood places
where all our treasures lay.

 

Osupa 2015