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I heard this airline commercial,
A most appealing song,
But if they wanted me to go there,
They must have said it wrong.

They told how carefree Maoris
Dance beneath the moon
And hide beneath exotic trees
For shade and cool at noon.

I want to be a Maori
With bronzy, sunlit hide
And dance in grass and brilliant cloth
And watch the changing tide.

I’d like to feel the subtle change
Of summer into fall.

I’d sit on the floor of my grass hut
And be part of it all.

I cannot be a Maori,
Impossible, I know.

And, if I couldn’t be one,
I wouldn’t want to go.

©2010 Carol Morfitt

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