Constantinople Tours

day I

suitcase and I

See there are these, the old, the young
in the hazy lanes
blotted with past, art, naive roaming men;
pilgrims, devotees, the artists strung,
bent together, transfixed in prayers, 
strained
in ecstasy of the salty air,
laden
with the scents of the lost empires.
Stop now, breath
in the sacred fumes of Sophia; 
it rained.


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