On the Streets of Accra
morgan omotayo@omotayomorgan
15 days ago
Barefoot races on dusty lanes,Laughing until our ribs felt like they'd break,Chasing kites under the blazing sun,Sweet sweat running down our faces, laughter echoing.
Old tin cans were our trophies, our soccer dreams,Dribbling past goats, weaving through alleys that smelled of spice,Women shouting from their stalls, "Hey, kwasea!"Us boys darting through traffic, hearts pounding, daring everything.
The sweet scent of kelewele filled the air,Hot plantain pieces that burned our tongues, but we didn’t care,Eyes glistening from the warmth of street fires,Granny's tales of tricksters, witches, and liars that kept us close.
Bouncing on trotro seats, no seat belts to hold us back,Our hands out the window, feeling the rush of the wind,Drumbeats drifting from some distant corner,And Kwame’s laughter, so loud, it always made us laugh harder.
The cries of hawkers, voices full of life,Selling ice water that cooled our burning throats,Fufu pounding in the evening—a rhythm, a heartbeat,The taste of youth, when the world felt simple and whole.
The sand found its way into the gaps between our toes,Red dust clinging to our hair, our skin, our clothes,Moonlit games of hide-and-seek, screams that turned into giggles,Accra held us tight, fed us dreams that felt real and close.
Mama calling us home as the stars blinked awake,Our bellies aching with laughter, our smiles full of sunshine,Accra's streets alive in our hearts, forever unchained,Where we ran, we fell, we cried, we loved, and we remained.
#Poetry #AccraMemories #AfricanChildhood #StreetsofAccra #GrowingUpInGhana #KeleweleDreams #BarefootDays #UnbrokenDreams
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