I bring

my lips to the lid from my Starbucks cup.

Taste of the sweet coffee,

bringing me to life again, every morning,

until the scent of old cigarettes are imbricating my sweet habit for waking up..

Burberry scarf,

tight around my neck,

I breathe a sigh;

looking at this city

and I wonder why I never want to leave this city..

Is it because of the feeling I get whenever my fingers slide into the old memories,

one finger snap and the memories are willing to spread into the sky?

Is it about the old LP’s, playing forevermore.

new birth of an old fruitage,

changing into a new fruit,

blooming like a renewed memory from the 80s and her peaceful music,

playing in the hearts of people in London..

This morning,

I take in the smell of fresh baked bread from the bakery across the street,

its warmth fulling my heart..

My winter coat as a warm shelter for my cold soul,

cover for my fragile doubts..

Maybe it’ll be my decisions,

and they’re always what I expect,

when my feet are pointing to the old, safe home..

and when my hands touch the subway tickets,

useful for a ride to home,

suddenly seems like a choice in my certainty..

Or is it just the unawareness about the future, in my occiput,

or is it one of my  dreams that are never promised?..

I let out a sigh….


I close my eyes and I feel my heart beat collecting with others,

I smell the scent of the poppies,

forever as a memorial in my veins.

And that’s when I know I belong here,

this is my home.

When I hear the reverberating voices through the walls of Westminster,

as I walk through the gardens and I see my old penny fizz into the clean water,

finally clearing my doubts and my astonishment…

–This is my home, my place:  LONDON..


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