Roses are red
Violets are blue
This is a letter
To you, mum

Dear Mother,

March 21st,
Took the shape of a raven
Cold and concrete
The mood, a dirge
As you lamented
The death of Adanne;
Your life’s support,
My twin sister.

For me,
It was a ballad
With chants and refrains of 
‘ She’s gone. Finally ‘
Adanne lived life
Like a limerick, silly
Your love for her, a sonnet

One line for everything Adanne
Adanne, the complete creation
Adanne, the smart ass
Adanne, the voice with sweet assonance
Adanne, with the charming smile
Adanne this, Adanne that
Adanne nyen nyen nyen
Every foot sang of Adanne

Then, there’s me
Irregular and incomplete
Crippled and dumb
My life, an elegy to be read
So, stanza by stanza
I watched as her life gained rhythm
I watched until it became
My life’s theme to 

Write an end to her poem
My plan

575, a haiku

Five- for the drops 
Of poison in her tea

Seven- for the hours
It would take to effect

Before she died

Five – for the days after
But I’d be found dead too
Alongside this letter.

Your other daughter,
Addana.

– Precious Obiabunmo

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