THE GOLDEN DAYS

Those days,
We used to play
And roasting meat on the wire gauze
Above the clay stand.
Brother, can't you remember
Where we got the names
Kitten-puppy?

The days it was morning
When flowers were still fresh.
Grass stood straight and still
Paying a guard of honour
To the handsomely dressed day.

Those days,
We grazed cattle in the fields
Wearing long shirts
To replace the forgotten shorts.
Barefooted, we walked.
Without the fear of thorns
Exploiting the Yatta plains
And Chyulu Hills.

We used to wrestle,
In front of the anticipating audience
And modelled toy cars from clay.
By then,
Your sister knew no blow-dry
Or the so called body lotions.
Only  herbs were used
In place of today's jelly.

The days we swam,
In the fast flowing R. Umba
We hunted game for food,
Alongside herbs and cumber.
Those days we robbed honey
And the hives' delicacy.

Those days,
Brigades fired peace.
We neither took crumbs of bread
Nor cheese.
We had no electronics
But we did communicate.
We had no salt factories
But we never missed any.
Those were the golden days,
The days we were young.