The astounding view,
Of the hills in the city,
Rather the city in the hills,
People of the east,
A soft spot for them lies within,
Flairs from the sun,
Strike the earth,
And whispers of the night wind,
Make me reminisce,
Soothing sounds from the beasts,
Sweet scent from the wet clay,
Growling thunder noices,
And flashes of lighting,
Scattering the animals in the park,
The thorns on the roses,
A depiction of the bittersweet life,
This' the green city,
In which my heart abides,
east or west, east is best.
YOU ARE READING
THE BOY ON THE BRIDGE.
PoetryThe weakest ink harbors the strongest minds. A collection of thoughts that will blow your mind. Some emotions laced herein are quirky, any similarity to real characters is just a mere coincidence*
