Rosalie
In muddy pools, soiled ourselves, naive we played
Flowers we picked, butterflies we chased
In muddy pools.
A to Z got to our heads, in grammar schools
Bright, Brilliantly, papers were soups of mushroom
A to Z got to our heads.
Rosalie, flowered soft hair, scorched grass has become
Soft glistening skin, granny's ashes for grains' cure has become
Rosalie.
Now you know, they played their game, care not but lust
Naive, submissive and of want, advance of dirt
Now you know.
Weep not Rosalie, mother's other, your kids stars will shine
Rain shall rain, your Sun brighter still it will shine
Weep not Rosalie.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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