My Home
Quite unexpectedly, I was inspired to write a poem about the city I live in.
Varna isn’t the place where I was born and raised. I moved here in 2013, almost 13 years ago. I used to live in a city surrounded by mountains, but I have always—since I remember myself—been dreaming about the sea.
Now, to be fair, I do miss the mountains, and they have a special place in my heart. But I can’t imagine not living next to the sea anymore.
I have moved to a different country, learned a new language, met new friends, and even eventually made a new family. My youngest son was born here 6 years ago. To say that Varna means a lot to me would be a great understatement.
And I love it just the way it is.
Besides, a city that inspires you to write about it on one of the coldest and gloomiest days of winter must be truly extraordinary, trust me.
My Home
This city breathes with gusts of wind
It cries with seagulls and whispers with waves
It wears its age with pride
And embraces all its imperfections with confidence
Its scent of choice is fresh bread and grilled meat with a hint of sea salt and coffee
Sometimes it wraps itself in a blanket of fog
But it can’t conceal its sunny nature for too long
It sings with church bells and flaps of wings
Accompanied by a choir of street cats
It feels like your favorite old slippers
Slightly worn out but too cozy to let go of
It reminds you to breathe and take things slow
It invites you to walk through its sprawling park
And listen to the trees
It’s old but forever young
It’s perfectly imperfect
I’m honored to call it my home


It’s old but forever young is my fav line :)
Love this paen to home and what it means.