The beauty of the county,

The daughter of my mother was,

Dark and innocent,

Her red lips festooned her wonderful face,

With intricately curled eyebrows above her milky eyes,

On top of her head stood a well cropped hair,

Her body slender and well balanced,

Her broad grin exposing her wonderful whitish teeth,

Oh the daughter of my mother.

Wonderful and fearful made in the image and likeness of God,

I really longed to meet her,

After years of separation,

Waiting for her appearance to trigger my memory,

To relive home even though miles away,

As I hurtled towards the rendezvous pregnant with expectations I pictured,

Then I met a lady with few specks of semblance of the one I was looking for,

On top of her head was brownish red curled hair,

Just above her eyes were thick darkish lines instead of eyebrows,

Her grin much of a concealed one showing less of her golden teeth,

Her reddish face almost reflecting the sun,

Her lips were literally coloured blue to blend with manifold bluish earrings that covered the nose and ears,

And I am told some of the protruding parts of her body are plastic,

Ooh, the original daughter of my mother,

Where are you? I can’t see you!


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