This is special,

And though social,

Also essential,

Make sure you issue

Its issue

To the premier

 

 

I am panting,

Like a dog, though not barking.

For it is in a hurry,

I was rushing,

To meet him in person.

Though not the reason,

They hold me in prison,

A child who is in for treason.

Only because of a season,

That was not considered in reason.

 

 

I did not understand well Mr. Premier

Though your manifesto,

I listened as you read Mr. Premier,

Your style I admire Mr. Premier,

And when I grow up,

Why can’t I be like you Mr. Premier?

 A man of style,

A man with stylus,

A man with a style to stymies.

You are actually a king to my life.

A role model to my steps.

 

 

But my memories are mixed up,

After many days spent in the cold.

I don’t understand why,

I don’t Know who,

I can’t recall how,

And my loving daddy gone.

Gone with the blowing wind.

The daddy who paid my school fees,

The daddy who brought bread home,

My loving daddy.

Gone with the blowing wind.

 

 

He said he went to defend our home,

One cold night,

That left us without light.

Took away our might,

Took away our sight,

We didn’t know what was right

But rushed to the sight,

Where tents became our plight.

 

 

I know it’s hard to meet you,

I have never seen you in person,

On television I have watched you

I even heard you give your speech.

That was rich,

To make me miss,

Old times at home.

I wish to play with my dolly,

That I left home when I came to the tent story,

This camp took too long to be holly.

 

 

I missed my bed,

I missed playing with my friends at home,

I missed going back to school,

My teacher who loved me,

I missed the festivals where I was always a star.

The end of last year

I came to the end of my primary years,

To join high school with open ears

But to be sincere.

I had not learnt anything that year,

In fact I didn’t know,

Whether form one looked like a spear.

But to you my hero,

Produce sweet melodies to my heart,

The sweet songs that sing hope to my heart,

Do something!

Whatever you can my hero,

Think of me the child of the tent,

For no one think about me.

 

 

 

© KareithiMugo 2009