Cindrella Posted September 10, 2005 When i remember the moon-lit in Somalia from eight years ago,Iam filled with wonderful memories of the countryside. I used to enjoy sitting in a chair in my garden on a warm evening and watching how the moon lit nature up and turned it into a beautiful oil painting.The river looked like a sivery finger in the upper corner of the painting. In the middle point of light would dot the leaves of trees.And in my own garden at the bottom of this painting,i could see the face of the moon in tiny pools of water. To accompany this visual beauty,the wnd played a romantic song to me.The breeze brought to my nose the smell of the rice field behind my house. Sometimes,my tongue could even taste salf on my lips,salt brought from the sea by the gentle wind. Often when the fog slowly rolled in,nature's painting turned pale and dreamy,and the moon turned inot a soft glow. Then the cold wind would push me back into the warmth of my house.Now in my new country,whenever i see a full moon,i remember Somalia! Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Mafia_Gal Posted September 10, 2005 nice poem.......cnt wait 2go back Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Cindrella Posted September 10, 2005 Thanks.Insha'allah one day we'll all return to our homeland! Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
