Tuesday, 1 November 2011


I dream of a distant past

Of a land where I was born.


Rugged hills

And windswept street

Atlantic ocean, often

At my feet.


This land of my birth

Perhaps I shall see once more.


As I gaze upon this

Forest of green

And smell the salt air.


It reminds me of my

Emerald Isle

The place where I

Was born.


Preobrazhenskii © 2011

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