My Homeland Coast of Africa

It was no more than eighteen months ago, I left my homeland coast of Africa. We moved to a place called New York City, A place I always wanted to visit. In my homeland men were fighting there, Day and night gun sounds were in the air. Those men with guns were so very cruel, They destroyed, then burned down our school. We arrived here in late Summer, Though it felt like it was Winter. The weather was a shock to me, I thought that I would nearly freeze. On my homeland coast its warm and nice, It never snow or freeze to ice. There, I often dreamed that it would snow, But, of course, then little did I know. For, it's no longer a treat for me to see, Now, I want to see green grass and trees. I'm told, Spring here feels much better, It's almost like my homeland's weather.