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The Path
by
Jolanta Gradowicz
Another season settled on the branches
Of the oaks down the winding path.
I hear coming sounds, some voices -
Church bells before a Mass, a child's laugh...
The cracked asphalt with rotten leaves,
Crows announcing something to the sky -
I know the road well and where it leads,
I used to walk here many a time…
Bare sprigs miss their leaves and the sun.
They seem left, but I don’t feel alone.
I marveled at the trees each season,
I feel as if the path was my own.
The night will cover the alley soon
And will calm down the noisy birds.
Some time ago I rejoiced at this view -
Now I am trying to look forwards…
I came back here to find my past dreams –
They still fill the air in the place.
I look for them in the faint sunbeams
And on the path – the familiar space.
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