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.

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