by DBLevin

You write poetry
like silver slipping off your tongue.
Sleepless whispers
in this cavernous temple.
Breathe life into this place
with your silver words.

Black & white streetlights
define our step-by-step visions.
Descending into the smokey den
escaping, for a second,
into momentary autumn.
Our lives, forever changing
Our winters, forever yielding to spring

you say, Hopelessness is the silliest of attitudes
in this, the womb of the city.

Accepting your brilliance,
we step out once again.

Standing on the street,
we let the cold night fill our lungs,
as if to say; you are forever mine,
move on, move on.