in the city
of Dublin
the seagulls
cry out their desire
to fly back to the open sea
hearing them
I think of my space
reduced to
the one-way sky
a stranger
tells me
to look at
the large picture
I wonder how
could I
every second
shrinks my shadow
ironically I
sip my English tea
when you
awkward stubborn sun
make my field
hurry towards a late green
I can’t swim
against the stream
but unaware
of a deadline yet
I linger on
the streets of my poems
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