Wishing For Better Climes

My friends are in Africa, I'm stuck in the gloom,
that's the way it goes, their elephant in my room,
I was there, in sunshine, riding on high plains,
dust kicked up, I wouldn't be in the same place again.

The ghosts of Isandlwana peered thro' long grass,
they knew I would leave them as all things come to pass,
roads straight as a dye, I didn't even have to try,
to decide my destiny forward, the arrow in the sky.

The swish of dried animal bladders on warrior legs,
made a hypnotic rhythmic intrusion into my privileges,
the white man cometh, suddenly disappeared into trees,
not forgetting that I'd left behind my indelible expertise.

I often return in my dreams to that high plateau,
it was wonderful, because it was as far as you could go.