Saturday Evening in the City

Above the bookstore by the grocer's

Is a tiny iron balcony speckled with rust

I find my feet treading that unpaved road

More often than they must

Sometimes I catch a smile in your eyes

As a wave is hidden by impatient headlights

Sometimes a hand gently keeps me standing

In the whirlwind fest of the noisy and bright

I let the hand guide my steps

Navigating asphalt meadows like excited children

People become wildflowers who chirp and chatter

Swishes of conversation, theirs rough, ours silken

Time ticks on your wrist but I pretend it stops

As my scarf and my heart fly unconstrained

We let old park benches keep our secrets

When inhibitions fall away like peeling green paint

It's a tiring, thrilling, wild journey

Through buzzing, colorful air and mosaic paths

But in stolen glances through hawkers' mirrorsThe only colors are our eyes, the only sound our hearts.