Walked along the old dusty path back in the village,
Whistling the lyrics of an old song I used to love,
I was also staring at my very small dusty feet,
As my feet slapped the ground I saw dust like smoke.
Shss! Found my great and younger friend smoking,
Was n' still is wrong for a boy to smoke in my village,
It was also wrong for my friends health sake,
He was too young to be smoking; I felt.
He begged me to shush about the smoking,
I was right on top of the fence sitting squarely,
I always hate to sit on it cos it's never stable,
He was too young to smoke; I knew.
He continued begging me to shush if I loved him,
Immediately thought of what he meant with 'loved',
For a moment I thought I better shush about it,
He was too you to smoke; i remembered.
I weighed the consequences off the fence with love,
My true love for him could never let me shush,
I ran and told his dad that I had found him smoking,
'He is too young to smoke!' he caned him proper.
For weeks my friend kept shush unto me,
All because I never shushed about his smoking,
Just the other day (ten years) after said he happily;
"I was too you to smoke, I still I'm thanks."
© Newton J G K 2013 (memories of my childhood days.)