The city speaks to me
with its bright stars,
pocket full of museums
and galleries,
hands glittering with hills
on the highways,
a merge lane always in sight.
"Stay", it whispers.
One day, I will have walked
to the summit of every
mountain with you,
seen a thousand sunsets,
fed the crimsons and
chased away the crows.
Until then,
you are always a phone call away,
two hours ahead
somewhere in the horizon.
~ c.w
