A young country mine;
streets on a grid, a line
many times copied from
cities a whole world away.
Streets on these grids, up
hills, around the shores;
but what was not replicated
was the cobbles, the old world.
A young country is mine
Benita Kape © 5.6.2018
Once again I try a Quadrille. This time the prompt is the word “cobble”
benitakape 