Drums, trumpets, jingles and
Flowers, colours and
A union born.
Rain, rain, rain
As kids, by then
We played in pools
And chased butterflies
Praise him, this son of Africa
He withstood mudsling’s of apartheid,
From Roben Island, to lead a nation, to set a pace.
Count him not, with other comrades,
Yes, only him and out in open
Could whip up their emotions
Could make fire weaves of words
Sweet, provocative and with taste for freedom.
Mystic universe spreads, up the sky,
Stars like dots, mark the sky
Twinkling, in majestic beauty