My child walks ten miles a day, <br />to and from, just to drink putrid <br />water and eat a hand full of <br />crumbs. <br /> <br />As he drinks he begins <br />to sob it makes him so <br />sick he's living and dying <br />all at once. <br /> <br />Hey Jamaica mon' <br />this is Gumby mon' <br />give me a windmill <br />out of Africa give me <br />a wellspring of living <br />waters so my little boy <br />can live. <br /> <br />I seem to recall the artesian <br />waters of New Zealand and <br />how the windmill would deliver <br />the water clean and pure. <br /> <br />Give me no hydraulics <br />mon' our sun parched <br />land has been ravaged <br />enough.Give me a windmill <br />out of Africa so my little boy <br />can live. <br /> <br />Josette Marie Louise Lager <br />Copyright@2005<br /><br />Josette Lager<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-windmill-out-of-africa/
