The strings are worn, the wood is scratched,
With memories deeply attached.
It played the songs of love and pain,
In summer sun and winter rain.
I strum a chord and close my eyes,
Beneath the vast and endless skies.
A melody from long ago,
That only this old wood could know.
Maria captures the vibrant, pulsating energy of European cityscapes in her rhythmic verses. A former journalist, she transitioned to poetry to tell the untold stories of everyday people she observed in bustling plazas. Her work...
Around the table, stories bloom, between the bread and tea, small moments turn to memories that stay eternally....
The square is alive with golden light,To push away the falling night.The music echoes off the stone,Where no...