My city

poetry

Looking out over the city,
my small, quiet, little city,
I see the lights atwinkle,
I see everything I never saw.
the cathedral sits,
squat and menacing,
it casts it’s watchful glare.
st. michael’s sword stretches
from father ryan on into the water,
protecting us from those on the other side.
My city is guarded.
My city is safe.
My city is mine.

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