I hold this flower
In my hand.
Yellow and perfect.
Like European star.
Like my heart
Is bound to this place.
My ear used to different languages,
My nose used to all these smells,
Smells of freedom.
In a continent of so many colours,
Blossoming friendships
And beautiful memories.
I keep this flower alive
As long as I can.
I know it will die
Like the freedom
That leaves us.

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