Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

That Eve grandies take the lead on 
       Night middled by fire beauty
Of folk tales only.
  Mum, aunties , neices busying kitchen work.
  Daddy , uncles making a proud of their hunt in the evening.
  This era what ever it maybe 
  That village I come mum just orders food via this technology.
  Forgetting the jiggles bells we heard and folktales that made us.
    SO SANTA CHRISTMAS WILL NEVER BE FOUND