poetry diary

Connecting, Unter den Linden
with fallen lives and loves, like leaves,
scattered on the pavement – these wide streets
rolled flat like tank tracks; compressed history
conquered this autumn, as every year
by falling, floating, yellow leaves from trees
who’ve seen it all before (and after too).

I’m glad the trees won here, and imposed
their gentle victory parade and rhythm
on this great city: leaves, like fallen lives
and loves, and buds like people passing through,
this autumn evening,
in Berlin.

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A city I’d like to go back to one day.