
Kenya
I come from a country
Where the wind will gently whistle across your face.
A yellow sun
That warms your skin to a bronze tan
As it give its hills and lakes their beautiful glow.
Where the rain pours gently
Like a mother bathing her child.
With clouds that sweep past each other
Without anger or a storm.
I come from a country
That is still a child in the big world.
She is still growing…
She doesn’t have as many buildings as yours
She doesn’t have as many shiny roads.
I suppose like all children she’ll grow
But for now
Her air is clean, unpolluted.
And when dusk sets in and the night darkens
You can walk with the moon
And count the stars as they peep out.
You can tell stories and sing by the fire.
There’s no blaring horn of vehicles
Or wheels skidding down a tarmac.
And as the insects buzz their lullaby
You are lulled to sleep In the heartbeat of Africa.

