Nature of a woman.
My woman, mother of man.
How forgetful sometimes she may be.
The taste of an icy cake
Makes her forget the pain of yesterday.
Nine months of burden,
How soon all escaped.
She is to get an icy cake.
Little did she know
It was sweetness laced with pain.
'Tasty-tasty,' she moaned.
Sweetness worthy of its pain she realized.
Tears in sweet feeling mode;
A short-lived moment turned away unending burden
Over a hundred and eighty seven pleasures.
©Musa Oyiza Rahama