Leaves Fall Dry: A Cry To My Home Poem by Mbusya Wa Mbusya

I eulogized my home; poor Savannah,
In a note to a reply to dear Anna;
-In muse of changes to failing rains:
Grass will grow to lofty greens,
Flowers blossom wildly,
And life gets on merrily,
But all tempered with hunger-
The lack of basics brings anger:
Even if the seeds would sprout
After the rains-ending drought,
Seasons temper to boredom,
In songs the local seek freedom,
Just as tourist flock around,
Camera flick without sound,
Nights are broken into a cry
And that's when leaves fall dry.