Africa Afternoon

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Remembering my childhood

Submitted: November 12, 2006

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 12, 2006



Morning melts into one o' clock

We pour out of the school building, liberated;

The whole afternoon dedicated

To the minds of children,

To fountains of imagination.


The sun oozes from a cruelly blue sky

And our mid-week uniforms

Stick to sweaty skin

And second-hand socks sag around the ankles,

Drooping with lethargy and lost elasticity.


Though it is only portable,

Verlep* in the middle, overfilled,

The pool provides cool relief from swollen feet,

And in mind are promises of climbing vines

And chasing butterflies on the broken grass.


The garden becomes a safari,

The side lawn a raging river, where we dodge crocs

The guava grove is a forest, over-run with wolves

(Even though they are really the dogs;

Over-excited by our running and screaming, they give chase),

And the rose garden, Sleeping Beauty's prison thicket.


And when bored of spying imaginary giraffes

On the front-lawn Serengeti,

We flitted from hydrangea bush to avo tree as flying ponies,

Christening each other Moondrop and Sunbeam,

Wishing away indespensable rain clouds,

Gathering against a wide open African sunset.


*Verlep: Sagging, lifeless, drooping

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