My wanna-be lover's knocking at my door
He won't let me be; I already told him no.
But very dogged is he, just won't leave the floor.
He wants me for keeps...keeps telling me so.

Hmm, funny fella this wanna-be of mine.
Brings me love tokens as often as he can.
I get bouquets of flowers almost all the time,
Sweet man that he is; the perfect gentleman.

But come see my room; its almost a florist's shop.
A bouquet today, two more day after tomorrow.
If I had my way, this flower-thing would stop,
One time I dropped the hint and his face was a mask of sorrow.

But today, I'll tell him how it really is...
'Young man, I may try, but I no fit chop ya flowers!'
'Never heard of a nice romantic dinner?', I hiss.
'Oh, but I have', says he, 'only thought you'd love my flowers...'

Threw him out and his bouquets 'sharp-sharp'.
Me, I no get time for flower-giving bums.
And I hear him go as his shoes go 'tap-tap'...
No doubt he's sad, but flowers? hey...no more!!

But those darn flowers are still at my door...
Looking so forlorn as they lie at the thresh-hold.
I could take them in, just this once more.
But I'd rather not...when they aren't made of gold!!

©Nkiru Njoku, April 17 2003