Glimpses of the glass jungle flicker past the warmed window,
An imprint of your cheek blurs the rosy view,
Modern art.
Air whizzing through the cool stone station ruffles your curls ~
Black leather ankle boots foot after foot, from dusty paving, to cobbled stone…
The day is filtered with yellows, oranges and blushing pinks.
Pressed French coffee mixes with steamed hot milk into magical swirling shapes in your vanilla paper cup,
Sleepy afternoon sunlight filters through bushy green boulevard trees as you walk hand in hand,
Crouching under archways, taking Polaroid pictures, exploring rustic back alleys, people watching from white painted benches,
Foot after foot dusty black leather ankle boots, from wooden bridges over city canals to marbled white tiles to cobbled stones to dusty paving,
Curled up on a worn seat watching amber-rose light leak into the clouds as the buildings pass by,
The last skyscraper melt into fields as sun sinks into the horizon-
Home.

Written for a friend with whom trips like this are always a joy – you know who you are.