Her Song

She don't sing the song anymore,
From the days she would overdress me,
My feet with the tightly knit socks,
My head with the woolen helmet 'Boshori',
'Twas the days thunderstorms terrified,

She would sing and hum the lullaby,
To wave the little me away,
With a smile, she watched me slumber,
With a kiss, she laid me on the rest,
'Twas her and me against the world,

Now that the song is dead, all is lost,
As i mourn, We mourn, She mourned,
She watched me play, from the veranda,
She heard me sing, alone under the tree,
'Twas the last days of the song, she knew.