The Old City
The sun sets along your stones fixed in a salty breeze,
The crickets chatter, the mosquitoes linger...
A sight of ochre rouge and endless blue,
And there ! A rocky shore,
The enemy of sailors and wooden galleons unseen before.
If your stones could whisper,
O what stories they would tell!
How times have changed
With each tide's incoming swell!
Your draw to Kings both false and true,
Have made your mark on the worldly stage.
I have discovered something other.
I am seeking all things new.
See, a small boat waits in the harbour,
still swaying for the views of journeys anew.
Side Note: All photos are my own. If you liked this poem, you can subscribe to my upcoming blog posts via the homepage on this website.