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Rona Librada Aug 6
Cold night breeze
Serene evening sky
Dancing city lights
Walking side by side
Fingers intertwined
Memory lane on our path
People passed us by
Couple they may think
But it was our way bidding our real goodbye...
Janella Sanchez Nov 2017
The chill arrives like an old friend
I put on more layers, ready to go out
And welcome it with a smile
Of course, I have been expecting it
But somehow, it always makes an entrance
I walk through the streets
Of the waking city, it wakes
Like a little child, still longing for sleep
Yet also yearning for sunshine
So it wakes and climbs out of bed anyways
There are parents walking their excited children to school,
Cars rushing past trying to avoid highly likely traffic congestion,
Workers walking to and fro
And tourists going from one tourist spot to the next
I have come to feel like this city
I have come to feel like
A body overcome by impermanence
With a heart that drums and lulls
To the transcience that has crawled its way it
It is a city of transient souls
But this city is a home carved out of
Pine, and dirt, and spirit
And people find their place in it
If only for a little while
It is a cradle of warmth despite the often gloomy weather
It is a mother singing lullabyes to souls adrift and floating in the wind
It lends itself as a port in the middle of a storm,
An archive for the better and the worse,
And a friend, a companion,
For one trying journey
The chill lingers and the cold is biting
I pull my jacket tighter around myself and realize
The city has come alive
And me, I notice my heart is beating
Just a little bit faster, but it's stronger
Because this city holds me close
Despite all the vanishing acts
It stays here, grounding me and everyone in it
It has grown roots the size of centennial trees
And it is here, will stay
Ready to give refuge to every wandering soul
From A Heart Jan 2017
A place that reminds me
of the softer memories buried deep,
deep inside my head.
Those indistinct blurs of pine
and nothingness once again
gain meaning as memories from
a thousand miles away,
from another land,
come rushing home.
*What the time fades,
the cold brings back.

— The End —