Cobblestone Streets

Last night

I dreamt of cobblestone streets

Winding through time forgotten.

The whispers of footsteps through the millennia,

The clip-clop of horses,

Soft whinnies and jangling reins.

The deep pealing of distant church bells.

The stones hold stories,

So much history, so much life

Passing over their worn, uneven faces.

Walking across them, I felt their stories seeping through the soles of my feet, into my being.

A connection never broken, endless.

Oh, to see and hear those tales,

To live and breathe them,

Even to dream.

Bruges, Belgium…


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