we used to tango, to the rhythm of the fire.
Staring at stars painting our tomorrow
engrossed in a tale to calm the dust
evident on our heals
Held high in morale class
pitched by the chuckling charcoal.
Grandma oozing a fountain of wisdom
veiled in a tell-a-tale contest
brushed over some days by a rabbit
while other days by a baboon
on a tortoise shell to grey
covered in shadows of truth.
Whispered in a cause for Ubuntu
Devoured in the hands of imagination
we engulfed all that the winds blew
Reflecting on all unspoken spoken treasure
Straight into dicing of our fabric
To stitch back together our morale regalia.
Chiseling out social decay
Grandpa reinforcing tales with forged personal revelations
Roasting time to wind down
into social relationship weaving
Uniting all to the roots that sprouted all the branches.
Held in "once upon a time!"
Before the end send heads spinning
Decoding encrypted wording in haste
To refurbish personal norms
To stand the trail of a village
Upon the encoded expectations.
