These bosoms,
These lovely flowers,
I fell in love with them from ages.
Like a bee, I just could not sap enough
Nectar from them.

Mamas laps providing comfort,
Her embrace protection.
The best part, her chest
Where I got to quench my thirst.
Of course it’s better than sprite.

Time gave me my own bouquet
Solomon my beloved said these of them,
“Your breasts are like two fawns.
Twins of a gazelle.
Your breasts like clusters of fruit.
May your breasts be like the cluster of the vine.”

A thief came and planted cancerous seeds,
Seeds that saw my flowers wither away day by day.
Encouraged by fear and ignorance.
Solomon, my love won’t go early to the vineyards.
To see if the vines have budded
If their blossoms have opened.
And if the pomegranates are in bloom
There to give me his love.
For he wont recognize the difference.
Between him and I.

In the verge of loosing my womanhood.
My motherhood,
I called out for help
Then, the pink ribbon came along.
Inspired my hope to live
My dream of motherhood.
My flowers were saved.
Resurrected back to life.
Thanks to the pink ribbon.

© sarah nabwire