The City: Poetry

I seek to be a tree
In the wind,
Swirling in circles
To the music of
Mother Earth

In the City,
My dreaming is restricted
Towards thoughts of liberation
Where I can flee back to the
Land I long for,
And watch the ocean tide any
Time I wish

I miss the land and the
Awe of open spaces
Where you can forget yourself
In idle dreaming beneath
The clouds

There,
It makes no difference if I’ve
Only a dollar and a dream;
Sitting by the water,
I can still be glad to be alive

In the City,
I can only be glad 
at what I am not.

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