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Soap Box Poets

When We Were Human
© by Beatriz MP

In a freezing evening of another cold day
I was walking on my own and in my way
A white soft feather was about to land
I hold it for a moment in the back of my hand.
It left something for the right one to write
so I set it free in a warmer wind to fly for more time.
At the Royal Palace I listened to a loyal melody
flying to a firm path and for a loved one.
Few miles later I found a wonderful lake
All the seasons its restoration had to take.
In the radio another emotional theme
this time about the wish of being able to fly
a loving soundtrack of a patient sky.
Back to the voice of my silent mind
I felt the sound of the frozen wind.
Layers of feathers were lying on the ice
dreaming of the morning heater to be nice.
An awakening community of seagulls
were all together waving their wings
frightened by the noise of the city engines.
A communal warming from the machines warnings
The big iron anchor will remain for a long while
with its ironic and iconic smile...
Being young or human could be the same
like in the fireplaces, light and warm are the flames
alone or together their spark is dancing in the dark
Before I left that place I took some images to share
from the many sides of the shores of that lake
and thought in the bottles that from the art store I bought
with the sweet marmalade that feeds my soul
I might be drawing the feathers of an imperial owl
Does the time wonder if we are still young...
might be a reminder of what we forgot.

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