We used to wake up before the reveille of the military drum that awakened soldiers from sleep,
When the elderly acacia trees were shivering out in the cold winter season,
Begging for a cup of hot water as they produced a foul smell that burnt our nostrils,
Putting on a short was the first examination that teased a part of my brain,
Being an elder brother called for parental responsibilities like holding his tiny hand,
Kawasya my small brother was named after the ululating voice that he produced then,
You would take a sugary lollipop from his mouth but his bluster would attract thorough beating,
My father used to adore his last chubby son who would complete the quadrant,
Our shrimpy bare feet ushered in the inaugural slap to the wet land,
Treading through antelope paths that meandered through the forestland,
I used to believe that pocketing some white flowers in my school pants would bring luck,
There’s a day we were late only to find our schoolmates sweeping outside, what a lucky day!
Little Strings of Poetry 
Eiiiish🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
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Thank you Pinchez, I truly appreciate😎
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What a memories, Hatare bin fire bruh, Keep the ✒ pen bleed
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Thank You Brother men, You’re Family bro😎
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High creativity of content detected. Good writer kudoz.
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Thank you brother, that’s a soothing one😎
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Felt good reading your morning ritual where the childhood innocence stand out. Have a peaceful day 🍁
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Wow, thank you much for taking your time to scan through, i do appreciate🤗 have a great one too👊🏾👊🏾👊🏾
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This is lovely, quite lovely.
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Thank you so much, am so humbled😊🤗
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Reblogged this on Momentary Lapse Of Sanity.
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Thank you ooh👊🏾😁
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