What can I say,
Your beaches golden as hay.
Corny.
Brazen by equatorial sun,
Unspoilt by the mess of the world.
Desolate from the Faranjee that come.
Who stay holed up by the pool bar.
Missive of the best of the World.
Golden beaches, palm shade, sun.
Warm Indian Ocean waters,
drenching your shores,
quenching our desire for more.
Sated, peaceful and calm.
Ready for the mess of the world.
But stay you aloof from it all.
Stay you, unspoilt.
Till I once again come.
Hustle, bustle.
Mombasa Town.
Kahwa on a street stall.
Narrow lanes,
Hidden industry.
Red sweet sticky halwa.
Birazee, mandazi too.
What can I say.
O Mombasa, I love you xxx.
Stay you, unspoilt.
Till I once again come.
END.
Written in the departures lounge of Mombasa's International Airport.
On request by my brother in law, Osman Varvani, for a poem about us.
We are Mombasa,
Mombasa is us.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Location:Bamburi
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