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The Old Port of Portland Maine

The wind kisses my face as it twirls my hair into knots

I hear the familiar sounds of seagulls and busy cars bustling about getting to their next destination

The smell of the salty sea wafts in front of my nose

Familiar buildings of the Old Port and the busy bodies going about their day transport me to a summer day of my childhood

I look above the buildings to see the silk blue sky covered in white puffy pillows with the sun out of sight but its presence felt as the warmth adorns my arm

I get the feeling of home and the memories of driving through the Old Port on a summer’s day


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