Oh Africa, how I yearn for your touch,
The dust on the horizon merging with a
sky alight with the fiery sun,
Your long grasses whispering in the wind,
The haunting howl of the lone jackal,
The shrill cry of the cicada ringing
through the corridors of one's soul,
Luminous fireflies darting through the crisp
The Msasas luring you with their colours of
russet reds and golds and greens,
Bending and twisting Acacias beckoning you
My spirit longs to be set free for a taste of Africa.
Oh Africa, I love.
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© Diane Bell
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