Boston, as my new country rips itself in two over slavery, is if not the place to be, at least an important hub.
What do I see? Cobblestone streets, some tall builidngs, sailing ships in the harbor
What do I hear? Irish brogues, songs and the squawk of sea birds
What do I smell? fish, smoke and the high smell of people who don’t get to wash often
What do I touch? sewing needles, fabric and schoolbooks, maybe an elevator lever
What do I taste? cabbage, potatoes and sometimes a pork hock in beans.
I am ten years old, what matters to me? Being outside, running, getting to ride a horse
Aw, and she’s off again. That Jane, just can’t keep her fingers off the keys.

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