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, 
in ecstasy of the salty air,
with the scents of the lost empires.
Stop now, breath
in the sacred fumes of Sophia; 
it rained.

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