In days of
old tales were told
That’s how
history was relayed
There was no
written word as yet
Everything
was passed on down
Through
generations on this earth
That’s how
story telling had given birth
Each and
every story was just like
A small fire:
giving light and warmth!
To be shared
and gathered around
Communal in
its joy: everyone loved
To hear a
tale: everyone was blessed
To be a part
of their oral history
Where-ever
they would roam
These very
same tales would
Do the
rounds: returning time and again
Keeping
traditions alive among old men
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