Bayo Akinnola

Biography: A prolific writer and database administrator.

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Bayo Akinnola
Tuesday 5 February 2019

Eve of my daughter's wedding

Tomorrow you'll drop my name
And bear that of your husband's lineage.
When you become a wife,
Just like I did your mother
Once upon a long time.

I'll tell tears to wait,
Wait till i get home to miss your absence,
I'll be a man; as I wave you bye
Place you on your man's hand
Watching him giggling and chuckling
A happy hunter with a sumptuous game on his lap.

But before that tomorrow comes
Before this sun goes to the west to rest;
Awero be my girl;
Let me peck you for the last time,
Let my shaky palms caress your face,
Down to your shoulder where I rest my arm.

My daughter; 
Where you're going is not a world of your raised and nurtured,
So let me take you round the haven of our modest home
For tomorrow you'll ceased being a seed in the nursery; 
Cultures will meet, clash on the labyrinth of life.

Go not with just the beauty upon your brows,
Go with virtues your mother and I place on you.
Go! My lingering fragrance that won't disperse,
Go! My recurrent decimal that won't round off,
Go! Bear fruits;
Just like a tree rooted by the river side.
Be green and full of life,
Just like the lily of the valley.

The road is going to be crooked my love
So, don't fret; when you meet some pebbles and stumbles, 
Some curves and corners,
This thing we call marriage,
Is a journey not in a vertical line.



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