Like a bride's maid behind the
bride,
like a flower in its wrap.
Now I have refuse to hide,
and amongst you, I want to
wrap.

Long ago, I have neglected the
pen language,
still it refused to age.
I have come to stay.
The tears of my pen refuse to
wait.
My hand has trembled enough,
Now it has come to stay.

Follow Me,
Like my pen in my hand
wrapped,
Shaking from the North to the
South.

Follow Me,
Like my pen in its wrap,
Allow my ink to tarry in your
midst,
For now I refuse to go amiss.

Follow Me,
That I might remain in your
wrap,
hold me, that I might remain in
your midst,
allow me to feel attached,
I do not want to look patched.

My Pen has come for
expression,
It has awakened for
motivation,
And has arrived not for
commotion.
Among you, I want to dwell.

Follow Me.




© Mawusi's Table