You have frozen my bones,
I forgotten the warm sensation of my feet,
you have stolen all my neighbors and hidden them in a party of  fog,
you have turned me into a live,multi colored hanger,and there lies my beef with you,weather,

how do you expect me to find my kamau,
covered in layers of cloth?
How do you expect me to swing my child bearing hips along Gakere Road?
Who will whistle for my feet,and pedicured nails?
Who will stare at my flabby kikuyu arms with power to excavate oil at ngamia one?
And my expensive weave,will you buy me a new one?

Weather you are wicked!

Today,you made me wear my sun dress and yellow heels,
there I was,strutting my fabulous self in the streets of Nyeri,
feeling like the full gacungwa,
then suddenly it pours,the kind of rain that sips through the dress making it stick!
my weave become ugali,and make up
cried a river.

Weather You are wicked,
Be gone from me,by fire!by fire!