City songs behind my back,
quaking under my feet, on track
feeling my thoughts go by
like leafs ‘tempting
to leave branches,
even by a few inches: Freedom.
Traffic from one ear to another
trailing with a constant reminder:
a smell not so holy,
atmosphere far from pure,
streets missing their glory
but I sit in front of this church,
feeling the trinity coast by, silence
remaining to deafen loud engines
in my heart,
in my mind,
in the buses,
in the trains,
in my blessings.
Otis did it first. I’m still working on this, so be kind.
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