Fresh air floating on the old urban streets

San Francisco is a ghost town. 

The flowers are blooming silently, 

The once filled shops sit cooped up in an empty plaza.


Unprepared awaiting to be prepared

Gray buildings of fear in a major metropolis

Next year at this time, the sun will still be rising on

The golden gate bridge,

The view is still there, the viewers far less.


Will you celebrate the new year with me?

I spread hope we wouldn't have to be six feet seclusion

We won't wear face masks anymore

let's hug and laugh to cheer 

The city is full of colorful vitality!


This poem is about: 
My community
My country


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