For in me a germ of love you sow;
so coated in might that it fuels my soul,
to burn with will, and zeal that enables me
snake through trials of life, inside spiky chasms
of growing up, in a way I hardly imagined I would.
For the lessons you let me learn from the sky;
that not at all times will it be smiling bright,
in my eyes, rather it will on one moment or day
be frowning at me, hazily overcast,
but still life will have to go on.
For the mantra Work-hard be your dad;
that you taught constantly upon dad's demise,
revealing to me the wit to see
that one's suffering is not always
owing to one's condition but laziness.
For this and more mother,
receive my gratitude for all mothers.
Frances Simwinga writes poetry that springs from wells of life experiences that he stumbles into, over space and time, crisscrossing a variety of themes.