I miss those days, I miss them alot
The days when music was my mursik
Although nandi hills were just hillarious to see them at the atlas
The days when the many sons and daughters of father Abraham would always row the boat gentle down the stream
And of course I was one of them
So we’d always pamper our dreams of being doctors and pilots by first being captains
The days when even though we’d school at the village,
We’d always go to town with the old man of Koleo
So if we’d fail to match our school uniforms,
We’d match the unison of sound music we ourselves made
When I’d always abscond muthokoi at home to play with Muthoni and be satisfied
When we’d always task to play till dusk
And no reprimand or cane would hold us back
But not now with this curfew and excruciating music and manner of life
But our parents would have to understand we still were immature thinking
Maybe doctors and pilots would be us
Or maybe we’ve discovered other careers
That even doctors would have to understand our sick mind and silky hands to thrive everything
I miss those days, missing them alot
When we’d role models into different shapes
But not now when role models role us into different models that can stand on any dais
So after many days, i miss that pencil for the wrongs it made were made right by the eraser
How we’d always bulk-break them and and no ink would spill
The days when we’d look up to wrestle after classes and make things clear
When we didn’t go much to school for books alone but hot porridge and afternoon sleep
I miss those days, missing them alot
The days when staying at home was unsafe
So we’d always go swim in a distant river and not busk in the sun
For the sun is not that safe for any son
But not these days with all these effluent in the same rivers
Could they channel there affluence to our rivers of poverty?
We’d even swim at the middle of the night for the waters would be warmer
The days when we’d go hunt birds only to gladen our taste buds
Just to missing the green days we’ve been going through
When we’d unleash the joy of owning a T.V set
But flooding the neighborhood, not with waters of course
Just for that one movie for a master up of that one move to up our game
In the next battle after tomorrow’s classes
And we’d agree that the neighbor’s wall was great
For we’d look up to it every evening and not the size, shape or depth of the sufuria
But not now with when everyone has to take good care of his t.v set against theft
The days when not even our parents owned phones although the were smart with that
And they would book space at the booth
But not now when we dirty but have smart phones
Although I reckon those days, the present is of no gift I bet
How are you tommorow?
Still pitying the coming generation
If all these have shade off
Thank you
By
James Musau