Yesterday, i did a sorting.
Ancient files.
Ancient Meeting files.
My Helsinki file.
I found a thin matchbox.
Scandic, the box had a name.
Maroon colour.
A side of the box says, scandic-hotels.fi.
Tele codes of Sweden, Denmark,
Norway, Finland and Europe.
A retro-possession.
My travel days.
Stillness of Baltic Ocean.
White nights in Grand Marina.
Midnight sun.
Sailing of Silja ships.
Tram noise, far.
Cathedrals, near.
Bells. Music of bells.
My paper.
Presentations.
Aura. Appreciation.
Newfound friends.
New promises.
Journey to the castle.
Journey to a Finnish home too.
Soul of Jean Sibelius was music.
A step away from Lapland.
A few steps away from North Pole.
Helsinki, the daughter of Baltic.
Helsinki calling!
This time, a match box attracts?
Scandic recognises?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem