Roaming the streets under the moonlight,
Is an Angel fallen,
fallen from the light,
Her beauty and grace ever so remain,
Visible even in the night,
Pureness marred by clots of shame.
With none to answer her plight,
She fishes with a long hook,
Soul condemned for eternity,
Forgive her father, for she has sinned,
But work knows not morals,
And morals know not hunger.
By Ken Musembi