The Winter Sun

As I watched the Boston sunrise
On a cold and wintry morn
I yearned the Jamaica sunshine
Of the land that I was born

The bright and warm caresses
Of its rays upon my face
As it filtered through window curtains
Made from Chiffon and Lace

The early morning sounds I’d hear
A distant rooster’s crow
Barking dogs, inaudible voices
The dew instead of snow

But Boston, Massachusetts
You dank and chilly place
Where I over dress in overcoats
And scarves around my face

I’ve slowly come to love you
And think of you as home
But I’ll never love your winters
That chills my very bone

Who’ll ever love a snow storm
And dirty, slushy snow
That drips mud, ice and water
Everywhere you go

Not when I have the memories
Of white and sandy beaches
The hot Liguanea Plains
Cooled by Port Royal breezes

Montego Bay and Ochie
Negril and Lucea too
Portland and St Thomas
St Mary, how I miss you

Oh what a world of difference
A few degrees doth make
When compared to Boston’s thirty
And Jamaica’s seventy eight

The same sunshine over Boston
O’er Kingston isn’t new
But a winter sun and a tropic sun
Are a very differing two

As Ol’ Man Winter’s visit
From December through April Fool’s
Will make the Boston sunshine
Like moon beams, bright but cool

David Ramgeet COPYRIGHT

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