Hamburg I
Cold cold air, fingers of ice,
Fish that stare, early mornings
The day is long, but the smell
Of pastries and bread
Wakes you from your slumber.
Trains that shake and boats
That vibrate but traverse so far
Buildings in endless forms
Juxtapositions- photos taken.
Quick games of chess,
Billiards competition,
Hostel bunk beds,
Paved streets shining.
Rathaus magnificent,
The Glüwein aroma
Busy shoppers shopping for no one
But smiling.
We're laughing, singing,
Talking, walking
Small adventures with
Unlikely friends.
YOU ARE READING
Petrichor
PoetryWe grow old eventually {here are the waking thoughts that consume me}
