The earth of this city
lifts each step and then step falls,
the pulse soft story untold
of the womb where lies my soul.
Cobbles hollow to basin tears,
days no longer but still heard,
memories of streets unfold,
forgotten maps of where lies my soul.
The sky watches wary
child land grieving,
small plots hide such valuable gold -
the soil where lies my soul.
Untilled and seeded
by what has been and blown,
deep is the cover till wind comes bold,
threatening to reveal where lies my soul.
Rock holds soil,
soil bears rock,
rain feeds new growth from old
pooling in gullies where lies my soul.
And I, Cassandra, garden with care
for roots run deep
and are not always
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