To gran, the maker of sweet, soft and warm porridge at dawn
You are the supporting hand that helped me rehearse my first step
The assuring voice that nudged me forward with every baby step
“Uyaganga,” you’d slap my wrist to point out the error in my ways
You will forever be the best narrator of bedtime stories
The one on whose sturdy arms I retired every night
You are who I dream of becoming on my best day
To you, gran, the mother I never had, I dedicate this little love letter.