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The night, with everything humid
Took us to the balcony
Current of fresh air, the moon also ripe
Amidst queries – we reached about stars
Why the luminance, clusters, variance?
Non astrologer, She did a best
But one premise struck
Each man has one up there
She answered – to everywoman too
Where is mine?
That, she pointed: the brightest.
Why . . . what about yours then?
Mine is in you, son
The place in your father’s house.
And She was my mother!
(Tribute to Elizabeth Adetutu Ojo)