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New Orleans MAG
September 11, 2011
Taste the flavor
Of New Orleans jazz,
Hear the song of a clarinet
Ten stories tall.
When the light pollution
Stains the night sky
An unforgettable purple-orange,
Who needs stars?
The Big Easy,
A city of soft Southern drawl
And hospitality.
A perpetual celebration,
A city that steals hearts
And holds them.
A home for all who come;
The blind, the hopeless,
All who lack.
You find it here,
With the voodoo-saturated French Quarter,
The venerable ancient trees of the Garden District.
This place,
With its people, its dirt, and its flavor,
It's home.
© Olivia R., Christchurch, New Zealand
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