I am just a short shoot of a plant,
I sway also in a wind less day,
In a windy day, I fly like a paper in the air,
For I am frail as a shoot of a plant.
Wise I am, a coloured little boy
In the streets of Johannesburg,
I secure the gates of malls
For the customers to give a little
to me, one rand is enough per visitor.
School I left long time ago,
I do recall, just not the date,
Dates aren’t crucial for me to preserve,
I know wise people aren’t
Always educationally gifted
A thin biltong me,
So much dry I am,
As a fire wood,
I swear you would create
Fire with my body,
I am growing on the streets of the sun,
The moon, the rains, and the mist.
Rubbish bins are my magnificent breadwinners,
I am so wise, I have been cleaning them,
For they conserve nice meals for me.