Thursday, June 9, 2011

Day 295, Africa

If I were in Africa
I'd stop day dreaming about

Wondering what the earth feels like under my feet
Wether the dust on my feet would feel
Like powder or sand

I wouldn't wonder how the sun
Would feel in Africa
Is it bulbous and gentle
Or piercing and critical

And the air
Does it insight a greedy lust
Or make me want to reserve
Every breath

Maybe one day I will know
And Africa will not call to me
I won't hear the soft grasses sway
I won't dream of the excitable cadence
Foreign words dancing in my mind
Like fireflies, no place to land

If I were in Africa
I would not daydream about Africa

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