I wonder what would have been my story,
If you didn't cover me with your umbrella,
Saving me from the raging storm of underprivilege,
Moulding me into the little woman I've become,
Encoding resilience and exceptionality into my DNA,
Your inner voice assured you that I would bloom,
And in watering me, you gave life to the thistles that begot me,
You knew me not from Adam, yet like Pharaoh's daughter,
You nurtured me as your own Moses,
You're truly your father's daughter, Ada nna ya,
Highly esteemed, exuding charisma and self confidence,
As confidence is at the tip of your fingers,
So is your tongue well dipped in the pool of wisdom,
The mastermind behind millions of unforgettable childhoods,
Impressively erudite, unapologetically beautiful,
Ambitions, plenty of them, behind the eyes of an intellectual African woman,
With high spirits, energy I can't call petite,
Essentially a multi talented chef,
Making the best out of variety, the spice of life,
In between the curls of your fros, I see vividly,
Strands of uniqueness, in silver lining,
You definitely were sculpted out to be you,
And no one else could have done it better,
How I love listening to you speak,
Your melodious accent, a soft tickle to my bunny ears,
A sting, however, on the days I received your admonition,
I would call your handwriting an arabesque,
And I would dedicate my AOTY award to that day's talk,
Your heart of gold, conspicuous as a chrysanthemum,
Epitome of optimism, Jack of all trade,
Ironically, master of all,
Ardently nationalistic, a prominent woman figure,
I scribble these last lines, in an attempt to,
Inscribe I love you in a circlet of thank you,
Locked away safely in the warmest, deepest part of 'obi m',
Is an ornate bonne annieversaire,
I ga-adi ka echi, echi a di agu agu.