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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=485722" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>And Her....too</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">once again you stroll<br>an old boulevard with no changes<br>of its landscapes</div><div style="margin:10px 0">huge acacia trees<br>a hundred years old<br>a memory of the nuns<br>teaching the catholic religion</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the same patches of grass<br>and same old towers<br>watching the sea from pirates<br>of old<br>kidnappings of maiden<br>fair and brown</div><div style="margin:10px 0">you take the walk<br>at dusk and you breathe the <br>smell of the past<br>relieving the lungs like trees<br>all roots and no branches or leaves</div><div style="margin:10px 0">you remember<br>this is what you do<br>always remembering and savoring<br>the memories<br>there is a tinge of pain but it is as sweet<br>as each syllable<br>in your poem.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the boulevard lights begin<br>to die and you meet faces<br>smiling at you<br>but you go beyond what is there<br>piercing<br>the ears of the past<br>wanting to hear<br>how it sounded<br>the pain inflicted<br>the love disregarded</div><div style="margin:10px 0">there is so much talking<br>so many persons inside you</div><div style="margin:10px 0">sigh, you take the walk<br>again, you move on without looking back<br>as to who is following who<br>and whom</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the rain falls<br>and you take shelter on a closed bar<br>across the road</div><div style="margin:10px 0">he is sleeping on a chair<br>and someone wakes him up<br>for he is too drunk and lost</div><div style="margin:10px 0">you think that you could have been him<br>you shrug your shoulders<br>no, it isn't<br>you call a cab and you take the ride<br>now you are on your own<br>self-made<br>perhaps too selfish but no, no, no.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">it is a bright day now<br>and you look forward to going home<br>where she is always waiting.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=485722" data-title="And Her....too de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="once again you stroll
an old boulevard with no changes
of its landscapes

huge acacia trees
a hundred years old
a memory of the nuns
teaching the catholic religion

the same patches of grass
and same old towers
watching the sea from pirates
of old..."></div>
</div>
</div>