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One of Old
June 4, 2013
I see myself in the days of old,
in something red, in something gold,
With dark brown ringlets in my hair,
A maiden beautiful, a maiden fair.
I see me stroll upon the streets,
litter and wastes about my feets,
past the taverns and past the pubs,
past the city's commercial hubs
I find myself in fantasys,
hidden beyond the dragons keep,
my heart finds shelter in stories deep,
my soul is one of old.
© Marietta S., Pleven, Bulgaria
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