I miss the rain in Africa

To fall asleep to the sound of a liquid lullaby
played on that typical metal roof,
and wake up to that earthy smell
of the morning-after-the-rain.
Coffee on your veranda in your bathrobe,
just taking in the absolute proof that God exists
and has impeccable artistic skills
The color of the horizon,
blushing at the first kiss of the morning sun
The earth,
velvet-smoothed by the night rain
The birds singing their wake up call
The flowers and trees rejuvenated and fragrant,
Exploding with life and blinding hues
And that first scathing sip of pure arabica coffe,
freshly brewed and home ground.
A warm hug from the other side of your bed
A good morning text from the other side of your dreams.

-Mpinga-

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