The Call

The mahogany trees are shone by the gold sun

Soft green grass is waving and rustling

Wind flies the leaves here and there

They are telling me I used to be there

It’s the kite that’s snaking in the sky

The children are running in cheer

Laughter of men is fulfilling the air

They are telling me I used to be there

And I’m telling them back

I’m whispering the words:

I’m going to be there soon

Be there soon