To the daughter I’ll someday have,
I’ll name you Nokulunga or, better
Yet, Nokuthula. You’ll tell me your
Smile is gold mined by muscles on
Your beautiful face. Your eyes will
Shine with visions – imagination’s

With your tongue you’ll twist
Mind-blowing stories. You’ll
Stand feet-apart in the doorway,
Locked in stubbornness, naked as
The wind, refusing to get dressed
For school.

I’ll watch your braids flow down
From the top of your head to your face.
Sawuhlala phantsi sincokole,
Sity’icornflakes until your belly
Rumbles with excitement again
for the adventures that await you
At school.