Nkatha

It’s no wonder that there are sonnets and songs,
Poems that have been written all day long,
About beauty,grace and what a thing it is to behold.

It’s no wonder that in the same way I write this to you,
Not Shakespeare, not a sonnet,
But a way to let you know that I can never forget ,
The echo of your angelic voice as you sing,
Nor the ripple of that sweet sound that stirs the heavens.

It’s no wonder dear Nkatha,
That you are a woman of virtue,
A friend to many,
A refuge, a safe harbor for many a broken spirit,
It’s no wonder that in this world where selfishness and greed reign,
God gave us a soul like you,
To be a friend, a sister, a helping hand.


It is no wonder that good things do come in small packages,
Because then there’s you, full of life,
Full of God’s love,
Who talks to the peasant as she would talk to the queen,
The calm in the eye of the storm,
A lady I am truly honored to know.


It’s no wonder that there are sonnets,
No wonder that there are songs,
No wonder that there is this poem,
This poem I wrote, all day long,
For you, dear Grace,
A lady I am honored to know.