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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Biographical >> ID #121160 |
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The voice of the mountain speaks to me
And finds me trapped by walls of stone. I yearn for the land where I should be And the wind is calling from home. The concrete and steel of this city Shelter not the things that I love. Buildings lean over me, weight without pity. They stifle the breath of my soul. I carry this weight without ease And grow weary of people and crowds. I long for the fresh breath of trees And sunshine, mountains, and clouds.
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