Cobblestone Poem by Rhonda Baker

Walking down the streets of cobblestone
through narrow pathways, we did roam
Over bridges, I count too many
Steps and steps, maybe a million twenty
Buildings that all look just alike
Like mice in a maze, every day a hike
Street vendors and tiny little shops
Roofs made out of what looks like terracotta pots
The smell that lingers in the air
Life seems false, a common thread we share
Places are silent, No music fills the air
Work is tedious: without love or care
They have quality and quantity, but No creativity
All these artists forced into captivity

5/26/2018
Rho