In the dry fields she wails, the dark nature.
Whispering the gentle words of sorrow, what a- butterfly!
She's as sad as night, as sad as doom,
Of course, an apple doesnt fall far from the -
tree,
She's also a photocopy of the dead mother,
The red mother disappeared, the little girl-
exposed to the yellow world.
Being followed by the black dog, hyacinth- flowers soround her,
She has been the blue-eyed boy to her mother.
We had wished million billions of roses for her -
mother,
She's left holding a baby, poor girl, poor her,
poor mother, black nature takes her,
out of the blue.
She kks that walls hve ears and that pipo are all -ears
she cant course the poor day she is born to a- poor mother.
Its a hammer in her life
-The abrupt butterfly-
AWORI ELIZABETH
(UGANDAN)
©Awori Eliz
A