The city where I was born by Ann WoodThe city where I was born
I'm in this city again
with the familiar dusty streets,
the city with its own scent
the world has dried up in my soul.
It touches me with deep sea breath,
I sink into the cry of disobedience
in the waves of the sea,
tirelessly the shores of caress.
He accepts me with his father's love
whenever I come back,
he caresses me with his meek call,
reminds me of old memories and dreams
I will carry it in my heart while I am
and no one has the love to change
tear is he from my pupil
even after my death it will burn.
Poetry by antoniya katelieva-wood
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Written on 2019-08-15 at 14:29
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