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Title: Streets

by lns | in writing, poetry

I dream of streets exotic, near and far,
Where quiet sunlight towels the cobbles, old
and blind but seeing all.
Or streets infused with spices, rattling cars,
reflecting light, the dancing fabrics captive on the line.
Or sea breeze, silken, soothing chalky walls
engrained with biting salt and living breath.
Exhausted streets, perhaps, by wincing neon
and music washing down the sullen pavements.
And streets quilted with dust and desperation
and streets beyond all that.

All there:
the town house,
settled épicerie humming on the corner;
the cottage on a stranded hill,
with snow in winter and Christ-gifts on Christmas Eve;
or the lake,
church floating, submerged, surrounded beyond a glowing window.
Even the austere, the glorious sand-castle in
a sea of green,
blooms flowering at the window frames.

They shimmer, teetering with the pull of some other street unknown.

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i want to travel the world and am fascinated by other cultures and languages :)

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