And now i am free

 (note to her - the partitioned one, racism, my whole last twenty years, more than blighted - defined, by it, though no one will ever know).

So there is that song, even if 'she' is only twelve.....

is

And her hair undyed and perfect.

As it would appear, now...

Is she

To the rhythm of, rit I mean:

But one would need a very long song, neigh almost Homeric to set the scene.

All that educated rap ongoing as usual.

They wouldn't even see.

The small woman. 

Just two years ago what a big woman.

The biggest i ever knew.

But saw become in the back seat of her mothers car

One day only a year away

A ghost.

A face receding down the road.

Turned to me.  "We lost..."

fast forward. But what is time...

" ... Hello is that...?

" Do you remember me Matilda...