I just laid down three tracks for one of my mother’s poems.
There is an interesting story that goes with this poem. In the city of Nairobi, midst the filth of the central bus station, there was a row a stinking lavatories propping each other up. They were long overdue for demolition when this poem found a place in the East African Standard. Shortly afterwards they were pulled down. I particularly liked this poem and composed a tune to go with the words.
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