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My City
I love the morning breeze of my city
 The leaves dance on the branches of the trees
 It carries the smell of newly brewed coffee
 And freshly baked, ready-to-serve pastries
 The seagulls fly over the salty lake
 Their cries almost telling me to get up
 I shrug off the blanket, fully awake
 Go to the kitchen to grab a teacup
 Hot steam rising from the cup: soul warming
 I glance down to the street from my window
 Shop owners sitting on low stools, smoking
 A man stepping out of his old condo
 
 This is my city, with its old towers
 
 This is my city, in its morning hours

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