My Africa

My Serengeti I have neglected to visit my “Africa”, the flatland between two hills that appear like a young mother`s breasts. I know the trees and bushes, used to drive there to say hello. Time changes I have no motorbike. On the road driving to the shop, I can see the valley, yellow digger And blue tractors near the wadi where I once saw a brown crocodile waiting for rain. Once I saw a tiger leisurely walking across the lane. A hyena laughed and said it was not here. They are building a new Algarve type village with swimming pools and an ambitious golf course. But not for you and me. No, I will not look at how work progress let my dream be intact. But I do wish a tsunami would come and wash it all away. Alas, nothing stays the same like the olive tree at the entrance of my driveway. I have lost my kaleidoscope