Place, for NaPoWriMo2020 Day 2, the prompt being to write a poem about a place. My old house on the corner of 3rd and 39th with its stubborn grass and red earth came to mind. I miss it!
I carry your memories in my heart,
the bright tint of your red earth
whipped to fine dust
by the Harmattan wind,
the whistle of your tall pines,
the smell of your freshly cut grass
in the aftermath of mowing.
I remember the sound of cocks crowing
the call of the muezzin, piercing
the morning air like a knife
and cherish the memories
of small things, of peace,
of beauty and of simple days.