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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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