I may clear my maw deep.
Orating the yore I had.
From your wakes until your sleeps.
And cough memories that I had.
From Daniel's yard to peak ridges.
We walked miles and miles.
Before the streams undertow bridges.
Plopping pals with elation and smiles.
Until we meet the gates of Dorcas.
And proclaim foreign fates.
Before we meet the old donkas.
Which poured our hearts with hate.
So deep as pains could dig.
So cold as winter could creep.

By Kgothatso Thobane