Wednesday, July 18, 2012


The houses are moving
closer to each other,
the path to childhood
starts to overgrow,
I'm peeking from afar,
no thoughts to hurt...
I leaf through a memory
with awe and slow

walk through the streets,
the way I've done it in the past,
I'm getting closer to the sea,
and breathe more freely,
how alive my feelings,
all memorable meetings
I'm listening and see...

the Duke still waiting
to provide the tour de luxe,
and meet and greet
by shooting a cannon,
and Pushkin grateful for
an inspired moment,
still shows back to home
across the street...

where white acacia
has bloomed,
and air been filled
with poetry and music,
I've met my muse,
I flew with joy,
I see it now
closer to amusing...

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1 comment:

  1. Things do seem to grow closer and if one looks many things they can surely see, whether joy or not depends on the perspective I suppose.