In primary school compositions we wrote,
The best among all teachers would vote,
Lucky enough mine outshined the rest,
Praises would be rained on me,
Innocently, I claimed it was all imaginary.

Blessed be my then head teacher,
One who saw more than what other eyes could,
Allowing me write till I exhausted all ideas,
Pity, they kept flowing like a broken bank.

A book mighty head bought,
Kidnapped by Shawo Raiders a title I was given,
Within one and half an hour ideas were still flowing,
Shocked to the roots of my existence, the remaining pages were peanuts.

In my secondary school, library president they chose me,
Reading variety of pieces gave me thirst of writing,
Deputy head being such a nice heart gave me a ream,
Writing I did as the...