Walls of graffiti he passed kicking rusty cans and dusty pebbles,
The city never weeps, nor does the city fully sleeps,
Fellowship of the broken dreams through those streets he gained,
As the beauty of all through his senses came gave a poetic touch.
Cold iron chairs of coffee shop welcomed when warmth he touched,
Oh’, deep inside the melancholy whithered into wintery chaos,
The warmth of the drink touched no soul but gave a taste,
Into a life of sweetness upon lips for a loving kiss craved.
Every movement around in his mind an image printed,
In every image that came himself, he added,
One by one those images touched each other and moved,
In that movie for her face, again and again, he searched.
The winds howled upon the pines that stood through times,
He walked away leaving the sweetness of his warm drink,
Faces smiled, businesses unfolded, new dreams knocked,
Ah’, his quill only wrote a poem about that unseen face.
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