Out under that brazen afternoon shine of our nations' capital she came forth, with a rusted Aluminium tray balanced rather expertly on her head, containing 5 large baskets of Irish Potatoes.
From her back emanate shrills of discomfort from the young and restless.
Global warming is indeed a menace.
Because She needs to catch a breath, she creeps under the shade struggling with her footwear as every step seems a journey in itself. And just as she eases the tray off her oval had, the shrills from behind once again, only louder.
Motherly instincts kick in and she makes to pull the rebel upfront simultaneously uncovering her left dark breast.
Standing, she feeds this toddler as he suckles like Ikenna Bisola's lips, STANDING!!! I said standing she breast fed this baby, both hands holding his cute black bum and her breast respectively.
She sits on the dusty lithosphere and frees the toddler who is ever eager to play in dirt, with eyes swollen with stress, she looks to the heavens, Her breasts partially tucked under her weary cotton blouse lay bare like the breast of an African priestess. She is his mother, our mother...
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