PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The aroma of cortaditos
and cigar smoke
filled the air.

The clink of dominoes
echoed through the streets
as old men shared their past.

Along the sidewalk and in galleries,
local artists displayed their work
reminding me of my heritage.

Murals covered the buildings
and we walked over the names
of Latin celebrities.

Couples danced by the corner café;
Cuban women twirled
to the beat of the conga drum.

I clung to your arm
and sunk my face
into your guayabera.

I have never felt so at home.

Rewrite 2012

The aroma of cortaditos
and cigar smoke
filled the air.

The clink of dominoes
echoed through the streets
as old men shared their pasts.

Along the sidewalk and in galleries,
local artists displayed their work,
reminding me of my heritage.

Murals covered the buildings,
and we strolled over the names
of Latin celebrities etched in cement.

Couples danced by the corner café;
Cuban women twirled
to the beat of the conga drum.

I clung closely to your arm
and sunk my face
into the sleeve of your guayabera.

I have never felt so at home.