Nostalgia

The sky meets the lake,

There is always an orange sunset,

So beautiful that it can take your breathe away,

I miss staying up late,

For story telling time,

How we could sing,

As we watch the pot on the fire place,

We played birikicho in the neighborhood,

Danced to funeral songs,

I can taste the fresh air,

Hitting my face from the lake,

Women and fishermen packed,

In the market,

Waving at me as I pass by,

They knew me by name,

Everybody knew each other,

The sight of fresh vegetables,

Seducing me to buy them,

I can’t compare it to the city,

Where dust and smoke chokes me,

The noise gives me headache,

It’s good for the hustle,

But I hate the pace,

People are always in a hurry,

I get lost in the crowd,

Trying to find the sweet girl,

I used to be.

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