Once I strode in February’s sunny clothes,
And flowery fields and melodious fragrance thereof,
And there, set my nose
To receive that love
Of nature for a meek mortal moping along.
Then I set my ear to hear birds cheer
As each peer blended tweet and chirp with debonair.
“How blessed!” I sweared
And danced in the bare,
With the air of memories of past royal fairs.
Then I set my ear as one sang out of tune;
A young flown off too early, but crashing on the flower dunes,
Saharan in their beaut’
Like Kalahan before the prefix “Super”
He was lost and it stirred thoughts of pity in my top cocoon.
Steeped in beauty sublime, though heavy in my core,
(and heavier yet my heart was before a sight so sore)
I walked over
To hold the fallen soldier,
While brooding over thoughts obscure and heavier than the pain I bore.
I softly made approach, and it fluttered to the rear,
Wrapt in goose fear, I looked up to his peers
And beckoned as it would hear,
While I approached with measured care
And the weeds slowly recovered as my foot rose slowly into the air
And softly settled before me; I’s still wrapt in its tune
Which with orchestra frenzy was shriller and sang of doom
To long gone parents, who
Would have saved it could
They. One frail voice drowned in the insouciance of elders so rude.
(c) Nyonglema
