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I retreat prompted by a certain Charm for older things Into my mechanized city: A scene of 1920's buildings Awaiting seeker of history.     I sit by a grand oak     With a book in hand     And find a storage dimension     Of Pecan and Ashe trees     Whistling to Poplars in certain     Winds between the River and the     Town that runs through it. Here in a walk with the River I want to rest my soul A destroy all other thoughts Of complacent voices.       An old cantina was placed       At her heart, inside a Catholic       Crucifix with Christ watches       Over the patrons as they drink       A merry round with old friends. A profound feeling in the city, I gaze at the Old Mission Of the Heart, I remember her well, The Alamo lights up my city And perhaps my whole world.      There is a tower of many Americas      Compelling the watchers,      Its as if the mercy of her heights      Allows you to fly in the air      Seeing certain histories from there. I enjoy her charm, San Anto at her heart Is a maiden of loyal charms, All resignation is set aside As old voices speak to you, And they seem to say, "Welcome, welcome old friends"
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Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 11:02 AM UTC
San Anto: Into The City
I retreat prompted by a certain Charm for older things Into my mechanized city: A scene of 1920's buildings Awaiting seeker of history.     I sit by a grand oak     With a book in hand     And find a storage dimension     Of Pecan and Ashe trees     Whistling to Poplars in certain     Winds between the River and the     Town that runs through it. Here in a walk with the River I want to rest my soul A destroy all other thoughts Of complacent voices.       An old cantina was placed       At her heart, inside a Catholic       Crucifix with Christ watches       Over the patrons as they drink       A merry round with old friends. A profound feeling in the city, I gaze at the Old Mission Of the Heart, I remember her well, The Alamo lights up my city And perhaps my whole world.      There is a tower of many Americas      Compelling the watchers,      Its as if the mercy of her heights      Allows you to fly in the air      Seeing certain histories from there. I enjoy her charm, San Anto at her heart Is a maiden of loyal charms, All resignation is set aside As old voices speak to you, And they seem to say, "Welcome, welcome old friends"
My charming downtown. Old style city.
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dedpoet
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Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 11:02 AM UTC
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