Ladies Don't Cook Poem by Doris Dzameshie

Ladies Don't Cook

Princess Adzovi defied gravity's call,
So tiny for seven, yet tasked to cook all.
Papa declared, 'Ladies don't cook! '
Mixed signals abound, oh what a crook.
She stared at her pots, both tiny and small.

A coal pot for her, a miniature sight,
Just like Dada's, but something's not right.
'Remember, ' they said, 'ladies don't cook.'
She pondered the meat, how much it took,
To fill up that pot, in the dim kitchen light.

'Your son is so handsome, ' they'd say with a grin,
Papa beamed proudly, his joy from within.
'But Papa, am I a boy? ' she'd inquire,
Dressed as a lad, her heart full of fire,
Papa's laughter echoed, a cosmic spin.

The universe whispered, a joke in the air,
Papa's chuckles, a sound so rare.
A princess in disguise, a boy in her dress,
Life's contradictions, a beautiful mess,
In the kingdom of irony, she found her flair.

Oh, the irony of roles, so twisted and spun,
In the dance of life, she was second to none.
A princess who cooked, a boy in her guise,
In the satire of life, she saw through the lies,
And laughed at the world, for she had won.

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