Posted in Poetry

In A Foreign Land

Unknown city

Unknown land

Time moves fast

At an unknown pace.

White rooms

Have slanting roofs

Tall towers

To look over what’s ours.

Leaves turn brown

The rain comes down

The old stone still stands

Pride and honour of this land.

The night never sleeps

Streets never end

Forever alive

This foreign land.

Thoughts Of A Nyctophilliac

Unknown city

Unknown place

Time moves fast

At an unknown pace.

White rooms

Have slanting roofs

Tall towers

To look over what’s ours.

Leaves turn brown

The rain comes down

The old stone still stands

Pride and honour of this land.

The night never sleeps

Streets never end

Forever alive

This foreign land.

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Author:

A writer and editor by profession, I am a nyctophilliac :)

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