Lola Wants To Look Like Mummy

(A show of hands, how many girls have raided their mothers wardrobe just to look as pretty as them? )

Lola loves her mother’s shoes,

they’re pointy and pretty and bubblegum pink.

Lola loves pink;  pink milkshake,

pink cupcakes and pink yogurt –Petits Filous

And even has a clubhouse with the sign ‘Pink Princesses: Exclusively For Pink Lovers Too!’

Lola loves her mother’s lipstick, its red -Ruby Woo,

and so is her mother’s cherry red blush

It reminds her of strawberries and the London red bus.

Oh! And did I forget, red is her favourite colour too!

She loves her mother’s hair,

It has an auburn hue and reminds her of the fallen leaves in autumn.

Lola loves her mother’s jewellery,

It glistens and gleams like the sun far away or even the moon.

She loves her mother’s dress it swings and sways,

like a princess in a glamorous ballroom.

Lola loves her mother’s dressing room,

It has in it all the pretty things that her mother loves to wear.

So she puts on her mother’s pink pointy shoes,

and draws on some red lipstick with great care,

puts on a few glistening bangles,

a stroke of blush,

Then goes to show her mother in a rush!

She skips to the kitchen where her mums making stew and say's 'Mummy look, I look just like you',

Her mother gasps with eyes wide bright

and responds with 'Lola whatever did you do?'

Ama’s Twisty Hair

(Ama has beautifully coiled afro hair that her mother often packs into two mini mouse puffs at the front and into two separate corkscrew threaded twist at the back (hair threading is a common African plait adopted mostly by Ghanaians). Ama loves her hair like this because none of the other kids have it the same but the kids at school keep playing around with it and messing it up!)

Ama had bouncy coiled hair that puffed up like candy floss,
the back was parted and threaded into two piglet twists.
The kids would yank on them all day, it made her cross,
but she would ignore them the same way and pretend they didn’t exist.



By the time it was home time her hair was a mess,
her mother would sigh and say ‘not again, what happen this time?’
And she would tell the same tale of how the kids were a pest,
and her mother would respond with this rhyme:



You hair is a picture of wonder and vision of curiosity,
the kids are just fascinated by what they see,
you ought to thank God for the sheer quantity.
No matter how messy it is, your hair is still perfect to me!