The nights stretch long through darkness,
and sleep seduces soon,
when light has disappeared in wisps,
gives way to waning moon.
In ancient ways the hours are marked,
from when the sun sinks low,
and huddles into dreaming night;
deep sleep till day's return.
The sound of voices trail through dawn,
down Africa's long streets,
in dusty voice and straggled earth,
they greet the light once more.
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