To raze this tower of melancholy
I lay me in squall
Dreading the vicious and haughty.
The number seven,
I count seven roads
To an abode tranquil and serene.
Seven roads!
So if one day I die,
I will snivel or sob no more,
But rest after these silent wars.
Surreal, my phantom in the woods
Will watch the blue-jay fly south
And the sun sinking behind hills.
I'll reminisce on the days
When I was but a wretched lass.

© Namaganda