OneMotolani

You'd be tempted to play your life back A slow rewind A part, you may only crave  Or all the way back But you'd hear nay Tomorrow  We'd wake up  Breathing a new air Writing in Fresh pages  Living life as if it's Untainted  Living in the unlived Opening up to the Unknown Remolding MaLlking the unmade  Open your eyes  Smell the coffee  It's your life creating a savor   Begin to stack the hay Yes, it's n ew year's day 

Why should we make memories When at 80, they'd fizzle off And our eyes can't remember where our feet have been, Where our hands have touched,   Where our souls have burned But why shouldn't we When the grey on our heads Would have been years lived Hearts touched Marks etched on the souls of others Why shouldn't we When the bits come And we share that one laughter And look on into space because we know That once upon a life No one had it as good as we did Why shouldn't we When footsteps will cease And our companions will be only us The photographs, the animals The silence And The memories...

I've made my choices A better of which weren't intentional Cried myself to sleep When no man was in my corner Thick Lenses And all I've seen is a micro-million Of all of your plans for me Been there,   Done that But you'll still have me Meddling in my own affairs Wallowing in the obscure Rather than hand over the reins And in all of this Within and around me is You Love wrapped in every step The reason of being Light and Freedom The Hope I'll ever need.  

Its December again, the season of love and accountability. I like to think that by default, the later happens to us all. But we often get carried away by what we did or didn't do and even the merriment that accompanies the season. The year ran fast for the busy bees. Successes recorded. Failures recorded, the subsequent event of life that happens to us all. Probably the year moved slowly. Things weren't so exciting. It took longer to come to an end finally. Of course, by this happen chance, a league of us has been moving through the year as though it's a trance. Oblivious of the happenings, just passing by.                                                 There is but one thing that makes us the same, an expectation for the year in the least. Expectations (maybe resolutions), no matter how hard we try to bypass them, are part of our lives. Some of us go with mental notations, written connotations, and even a bucket list of them.                  

As usual, after school, I was making a corner just after the bridge. I was a few minutes’ walk to the Garage. A long whistling sound filled the air, and I knew very well what it meant. There was no familiarity between myself and anyone in these parts; therefore, slowing down or turning around was no option. Those hungry-looking boys with only tattered clothes on their back are not a sight for pity eyes. They are snatchers, and I’d rather not have my school books snatched by people who won’t even know what to do with them.  Shortly after the whistling stopped, which was rather odd, I felt a cold hand wrap itself around my elbow. I promise you that these boys have an A-plus on their element of surprise. I was ready to give whoever it was a jab. However, the familiar stench that has become the ever-present part of the streets of Lagos suddenly wrapped itself around me. It was so poignant that I began to see stars. I needed no one to tell me that it was one of the under bridge