This is a land of lands where dreams
are planted in the longing eyes of a child.
Lives are redefined for societal upliftment,
children build castles on the seashore and
watch the passage of tradition and culture
from the custodians to the younger ones.
We speak of those tales under the moonlight,
grace the festivities hopping in around villages.
Boys stay uphills to tell girls tale of prestige,
Girls gather in the stream to sing and dance.
When boys come, they run here and there
madly to cover their innocent nakedness
We watch the elders chew kola nuts
under the setting of the old rugged sun.
Children remember the farmland like their palm,
the dreadful thunder, they chase with a curse.
Hopeful land AFRICA is a land of expression.
We sweep clean our hearts with love.
Our skin colours are our proud name,
no full flame, next fall, next rise joyfully,
With love and new opinions, we strive on.
She watches signifies come and go,
names immortalized on her wall...
This is the land that harbours our childhood.
Boys chase girls along the village tracks,
not without sending our souls' errand to
tell them of our longing thoughts craving.
When we misbehave, we tell the elders the lie.
Cry of fearful rodents we follow downhills to
derive joy from their fears and heartbeat.
We have no problem except those we created,
We have no sin except those we learned of.
Life, a funfair, sure path to imperfection.
Elders meet elders, women meet women,
boys tell boys tales and girls giggle often.
Africa made us who we are to the world,
a spotlight of the undescribed world of sin.
Images and prime creature above all species.
Downhills are green grasses spreading potentially.
Tell men of high condition that manage the globe
that our black colour is not a crime to nature.
Africa is a land of childhood.
You can reach John Chizoba Vincent @ firstname.lastname@example.org