Mildred....A Girl Named! Poem by Merlin Mwaura

It's my Friday night out,
but actually it's our Friday night out,
me and a couple of friends.
Usually it's the habitual ritual that we always delve into,
conversation, accussations and confirmations,
of our own valid points.

A cold drink in a clear glass,
Bloody red concotion down my throat,
as my countenance begins to warm.
Politics, money, girls and life,
very heated debates and yet it's not so late,
to include the plays of sports.

Until of course Mildred comes into the picture,
while we all observe her mannerisms,
with pity and heart felt simpathy.
On her right hand,
clasp some paper rolls of nuts,
10 shillings sold,
she is 10 years old.

We summon her to our table,
glittered with glass and vile drinks,
with fine fumes emitting from cigarette butts,
and where a mass naration
had once a moment ago,
been taking place.
Now only filled with contemplating silence.

We ask her name, and with a cheerful
solemn smile...
Mildred tones her name with beautiful
words, and it feels like a song.
We are pleased that life will find her
with favor at some later point.
but for now, we find her with favor.

We offer her 100 shillings.
wish her a 100 years into her life,
and let her keep those paper roll nuts.

I see a great future ahead of her,
and tales from her to her generation,
tears and torment,
but in there moments,
that she will find people like us,
who come from the same, the very,
pitiful abyss.

That she might,
at some time,
sing a song,
of paper rolled nuts,
to throng and throb our hearts,
once again with a beautiful voice,
upon a table that we will be sit,
of age and experience upon our heads,
and remember. once a ten year old
girl, charmed our merry souls.

Mildred, .....a girl named.