Post Reply A Memory of the Streets
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28 / M / California, US
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Posted 1/29/09 , edited 2/2/09
I seem to recall a memory,
That seems more requited then passive,
As it’s a memory of the quarrel streets of L.A.,
Which bustling in the afternoon yet quiet as the silhouette of a evening denture,
Yet in those times, things seem more open and filled with freedom,
And the streets was just a passage into another spherical world,
Where noise is called peace and night is home,
with its intrusive yet luminescent night lights,
that seems to follow the same road as I am,
All the while, hearing laughter and happiness,
In another spec of room of the car,
with a combination of night and right,
Just in those times,
I can hear my heart beat,
In the soul of the evening,
Though at those times,
I had a heart for someone,
And was simply on the good foot on road,
Still, the sound of cars passing ours,
Seems more of a lullaby now,
All the while missing the reason of that trip,
Whether it was fun or just done with a party,
The feeling was simple and lovely.

~M.M.
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