madras

In the roll of the waves and the caress of the breeze

I feel the soul of my city- its silver sand and blue seas.

From its minaret, shrine and steeple,

I hear the chants -the prayers of the people;

This is the voice , ancient and profound-

Of the soul of my city- I thrill to its sound!

I can smell on the beach – warm ozone scented air-

Raw mango and jasmine- the pavement vendor’s fare.

The breath of my city soothes my tired soul:

Heals me, refreshes me, makes me whole

 

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