Live oaks draped in Spanish moss, as matrons wearing antique lace
Primal scents wafting from marshes at midnight
Artists of all sorts, creating their sultry bohemia
Encountering spirits of souls past along gas-lit brick streets
Music filling the air over shade-dappled squares
Cold drinks in hand, watching ships move up river
Old and new fusing into one brilliant tapestry
Sights, sounds, smells... and even tastes
Being creative and with the one I love
In a place for me to at last be free
All of this is mine... my life
I close my eyes and reflect...
Impressions of my Savannah
Title | Date Posted |
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In Gratitude | 24 December 2008 |
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