Miss Delilah was our neighbor.
Since kinder, she's been living next door.
So I know her everyday routine,
in her greenhouse, every seven fifteen.
There were no days of ignoring from her.
Nor empty baskets or lingering hunger.
She always have something for me and nana,
which she grew in her greenhouse hacienda.
She let me in her greenhouse to witness,
an aristocrat who works finesse,
against dirt, sweat and ignomacy,
to set exmplary and complacency.
But our life of jubilee were shortlived,
when a hostile didn't knocked properly,
breaking the solitude of our sleep,
and turning our home just like a hovel.
Nana was batted and fell unconcious.
We were overcomed by his killing apparatus.
Though God is good to grant us help,
And Miss Delilah heard my silent yelp.
The fate of the scamp depended on the cut,
Miss Delilah aimed on his jagular and gut.
Remorseless she was, we're saved atleast.
In vengeance, she puts us at ease.
The only thing I can pay her was to help,
hide the past under the greenhouse net.
Watching her digging the soils depth,
makes me under if she's a hero or threat.
Nobody knew about the greenhouse secret
Neither to Nana, since I have nothing to fret.
And if my mind can verbalize that memory,
I'll speak not about it to her Henry.
