Her small mountain stood gracefully
Two villages away from her
With stars that stare at you in the night
She breaks dusty brown through
The winds that love feeling her flaws
Her green oasis stretched
Long as the only fresh streams
That keep cool her bosom
Nurturing beautifully her children
That call to her by her name
Mattnau
Scorching her tough love
Her field feeding they
They that reap that which they sowed
Her international corner earth
To make hard for her children to
Leave her, forget her, their roots
That stood deep in her heart
Being the very life that she has
A mother’s love for her children
Nurturing them through life and
Holding them tight to her bosom in death
About the Creator
BlacQ Tales Bopape
I am an author. Inlove with the magic in words.
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