Anna Becker

England

I look at the tendrils of rain falling from the clouds

They remind me of you

I look at the faded bricks on a slender old house

They remind me of you

I look at the green hills tumbling over one another

They remind me of you

I look at the grey but cozy sky looming over the wet pavement

It reminds me of you

 

England

They all remind me of you

 

I hear the distinct voice of the butcher

He reminds me of you

I hear the cry of seagulls flying in the breeze

They remind me of you

I hear the chatter of the fellowship pub

It reminds me of you

I hear the breezeway door close with a twist

It reminds me of you

 

England

These things remind me of you

 

I smell the crisp scent of tea brewing to black

It reminds me of you

I smell the fish and chips waft through filton avenue

It reminds me of you

I smell the smell of the sweet shop round the corner

It reminds me of you

I smell the smell the rain leaves in the forest

It reminds me of you

 

England

Oh how these things remind me of you

 

I taste clotted cream melt with strawberry jam

This happily reminds me of you

I taste yorkshire pudding in Rosemary's house

It reminds me of you

I taste the taste of christmas at ebenezer

It reminds me of you

I taste the chocolate egg of easter

And it reminds me of you

 

England, they all remind me of you.






  • Author: Anna Becker (Offline Offline)
  • Published: October 16th, 2016 16:37
  • Comment from author about the poem: This poem is a collection of fond and meaningful memories from my seven year of live in Bristol, England
  • Category: Unclassified
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