My town always yearns
For you-
Streets, like lips
Want to fall where you have walked.
The trees before my window dream of you
On long wintery nights.
And they look up at me with anger and distrust
And blossom with dark hues
Of ravens and crows.
Trains go and come
Endlessly running and racing.
Longing flows
Through the veins of forked tracks
To a tiny point
In the great world.
The heart of the station feverishly
Throws you the rainbow of the bridge
To unknown but imagined shores.
My town always yearns for you
And waits-
Perhaps a white bird will flutter
Its tiny black feathers, like letters,
Which will sing out in one breath
My name and the name of my town
And perhaps, perhaps will announce your coming.
(Rachel Korn)
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