Beautiful black nights of my childhood
Where retiring weavers fill the quiet
With occasional soft chirps that make eerie harmony with the cricket’s song
And the fireflies fly and flutter by
Making a collage of beautiful fires against the naked night
We gather around her, she whose crown is white and gray
And we listen to the tales of her childhood
Our laughter echoes through the beautiful black African night
Our hands on our smooth black chins
And eager heads drawn closer and closer
To the black nights of her childhood
Till leopard eyes light their fires
Beckoning us who are unafraid to let the rulers of this black night live
So we retire to our beds
Blessed by the one whose crown is white and gray
Whose peace is a blanket over our innocent caramel bodies.
I long for you,
Ebony nights of my childhood
I long for hyena laughs
And I long for the village drunkard’s song
I long for the tales around neighbourhood fires
And night laughter under God’s light
I long for African nights of my childhood.
