the year of lyrics: a poetry project

my search for inner-peace, one poem at a time

Day 335 – Tribe Tradition

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New and old tradition
I hope you never die.
To me you are more than others see,
You are the guiding torch
Leading me down paths of old brick.
You are the crowded library desks and tables
And under-utilized bookcases.
You are the half-off burgers smothered in delicious fats and oils
That tempt me every Monday night.
You are the businesses that close early each day,
Forcing me to traverse to always open convenience stores
And discounted bowling lanes.
You are the sundial casting shadows of time,
The museum colored lights after sunset.
You are the grassy gardens that embrace relaxation
In the heart of all of our stress.
You are gorgeous buildings of ancient and old
The bridge touched by fate and superstition.
You are my way of life,
You are my tradition.

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