I miss Africa

I mjss waking up to the sound of little kids in the roads,
Screaming and shouting as they play ball.
You don't even need to know my name,
You just have to want to play.
It was simple there.
I miss thr clatter of street vendors as
they battle through the streets trying to grab the attentiob of customers.

I miss knowing exactly which
chicken or cow would be killed for dinner that day,
Don't get me wrong,
It's not the sight of blood I'm nostalgic about,
It's the smell of fresh meat I knew hadn't been genetically modified.

The way we laughed back home. Belly laugh.
RIP my old laugh. Without a care in the world.
The way on every corner you come across someone you know is interesting though.
Keeps children out of trouble.
The elders advise the young ones. Community. Ubuntu.
I miss that. Africa. I miss you.

I used to think your sun was too hot.
But now I realise it was perfect.
It's colour: so yellow. No pollution.
It's heat: very warm. No need for heating.
I didn't appreciate you enough.
I miss you. I took you for granted.

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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