From the Corridors of My Past

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedWhat once was a radiant beauty
became the colours that kept shifting from red to blue,
and from blue to purple,
as the smell of salt fused with fresh air
carried by the rain that touched my nose.

The taxi remained stuck in traffic,
allowing stillness to surface through the noise.

I looked out from the window
as each scene unfolded like an echo
from the corridors of my past,
reminding me that I used to make a wish
every time I crossed under a bridge.

A note resolved,
giving the ground a pulse
that began to beat with my vibration.

Trees were wearing the same green
Every leaf held a glint.
Birds were flying above
but the sky didn’t look the same.
The stray cats started humming a different tune.

Slowly,
the road cleared,
and the traffic began to flow forward,
and I made a wish as I crossed over the Bosphorus Bridge.

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