Tuesday, December 11, 2007

An African Christmas

Why sing we songs of mistletoe?
Why exalt we the pure white snow?
What meaning, tell, Rudolph's nose?
What romance bears fireside repose?
In an African Christmas.

Why not dream of harmattan air?
Why not laud bluest atmosphere?
Extol the smell of burning grass.
Sing you of dust not frost on glass
In an African Christmas.

It's not the seasons of the year
That tinge the wondrous Christmas air.
But Mary's infant meek and mild,
Praise then, all men, the Holy Child
In an African Christmas.



Oladejo Fabolude

Copyright ©2003 Oladejo Adebola Fabolude

6 comments:

CATWALQ a.k.a LAGBA-JESS said...

I wonder...
I never quite got the tale of the man who would land through a chimney into my house. I remember as a little girl staring at the roof on our bungalow wondering how he was going to get in with no openings or how he was going to survive Bingo if he came through the door.

Isi said...

hmmm, a good piece never dies.
still loving it!

Sherri said...

Awww,
makes me miss christmas in lagos..

2ndCorin5:17 said...

lol... i like dis poem indeed...

lol @ catwalq... i know right?

Refinedone said...

Was looking forward to an African Christmas...c'set lavi!

Uzo said...

LOL...No Rudolph or snow here...just tons of traffic and irate drivers. But the real reason for celebrating transcends seasons and locations....