Yellow afraj flowers bloom in Kuwait,
Dancing along to the breeze’s song.
Indian primroses blush the deepest red,
Growing among the tallest poplars.
They speak of beauty and patience,
Their petals still soft while days gradually grow old.
Camels blink in the blazing sun,
Their eyes scanning the well-known horizon.
A light coating of dust covers their skin,
Their hoofs blackened from the burning sand.
The sky darkens and rain breaks down,
The earth lets out a faint smell of hope.
The children in delight, start their joyous dance,
And paper boats sail in a fervent trance.
The jolly crowds wander, they laugh and sing,
And walk along the soothing waves.
Their bare feet caked in sand untraced,
Their faces speak of fires ablaze.
Village women beam, so triumphant and dazed,
They twirl around in their pretty skirts, oh ‘I say!’
Their wrinkled hands tell stories of joy and depression,
Their hearts are strong, with will and determination.
These countries have mysteries buried deep inside,
We’ll explore a bit more and feel the excite,
We think we know so much, although we know so very little,
So many stories await us, like the pieces of a puzzle.