Tree's and lawn's,
sometimes yellowy dry,
cracked roads,
dirty streets,
a constantly restructuring,
central core,
a mixture,
of buildings tall,
and business' small,
spread out neighborhoods,
park's here and there.
What can I say,
but…
Around and around,
on wayward streets in this town,
people rush around.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem