I woke up an African child, in the jungle, how I got here I can't remember, what led me here was oblivious to me, right this moment I wanted my Mama's voice, loud ringing yelling my name to wake up. I want to smell the aroma coming for her cooking place, I want listen to my father open his tobacco tin after tapping on it's cover thrice, I long to hear the sound of vendors as they walk along the streets to the market place advertising their wares as they go. But this the jungle all you hear is the sound of beautiful yet almost meaningless music, my heart is as alert as my head,here where fear is the unknown.
I miss home. I want to go back home.
© RUBEE