Flat 4 Poem by Alaa Elgadi

Flat 4



Nature illustrates people splendid,
When by it their feelings are suspended.
Th French cafés dress neatly for the dates,
But the English chimneys begin to think of their fates.
The honey drops feel warm in the hug of the French stick,
But the spoon shivers beside the English tea with every tick.
The jazz piano music makes the Eiffel Tower sway,
But the Big Ben's dings order the doves to not to stay.
The Louvre's paintings with the aesthetic eyes are merry,
But the London bridge is unwilling to welcome one more ferry.
Within All of this heavy rain, the French chocolate is still hot,
But the sound of the black penny still echoes in the phone's slot.
Between this romantic French optimism,
And the tragic English pessimism.
I feel nostalgic for my hometown in the Cypriot rain.
Standing in the balcony imagining my return plane.
This plastic loaf makes me miss my mother's fresh bread,
And this coarse sofa tears up my dreams with my ex- bed.
Now it is still raining and I am in my Famagusta residence, Flat 4,
Remembering my family and my country in peace and war.
I look forward to packing such a nostalgic poem in my suitcase,
Coming back to Misurata, my childhood's perfect place.
Rain could be a perfume in the occasions of delight and grief,
Or it could be a French fairytale or an English belief.

Flat 4
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