The river runs through the heart of the city
As the tourists roam through the streets.
The sounds of jazz, the scent of magnolia, the taste of chicory
All part of my heart, my soul, my city.
New Orleans
As the tourists roam through the streets.
The sounds of jazz, the scent of magnolia, the taste of chicory
All part of my heart, my soul, my city.
New Orleans
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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