Condensation hugging

city streets that drink
the rain.

Roots that grip firm
Mother Earth,

the steeple there that
enshrines the church.

Cobblestones that grasp
the ground,

a mother embracing
her child found.

Shelves that support
a thousand books,

an urban city that
houses crooks.

A hand that grips
that of its lover,

the Muezzin’s croon,
that calls all to prayer.

Everything around
has something to miss,

that without which
it could not exist.

Sierpień, 2015
Warszawa, PL

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