My heart is missing something so dear to me The warmth of Jamaica, my home country
I missed the way the sand felt beneath my feet
And the beautiful smiles of the people that we meet
I missed the wind blowing gently against my cheeks
And missed the echoes of our voices as we speak
I missed the taste of sugar cane in the morning
I missed the glorious sunlight of a new day dawning
I missed the crowing of the cocks before the day lights
And the sounds of crickets chirping through the nights
I missed the constant swaying of the trees
As they danced to the cool, tantalising breeze
I missed the pleasant sound of the seashells next to my ear
I missed the sound of mom’s voice, saying have no fear
I missed the smell of the fresh sea air
And those pleasant, but noisy atmospheres
I missed the way the sellers expertly balanced their loads
As they walk to the markets on those dusty roads
I missed the sounds of tiny feet
As the kids play their games on those dusty streets
I missed the way my feet felt on the ground
Without there being any snow around
These are things I hope to again feel and see
When I’m back in Jamaica, my home country

Earl Thompson, 2007.