Copenhagen
The white settled
on the ledges of the centuries
old buildings outside.
I slept inside
unknowing
that this was my first time:
she gave me my first snow.
Time dripped
from the naked branches,
scraping my windows silently,
freezing the soles
of my boots on the floor,
next to the frosted glass,
awaiting me in cold surprise.
Rode through
the stories of this city
feeling the wind
so slightly knife my face,
yet no scars, only stories to tell;
the rooftops, the round tops all had
a gift of wonder for the passing eyes.
Smoked outside
for the first time too,
in the burning warmth
I always hoped winter would bring.
Now I could see
the places I’d traveled
clearly behind me.
Time, this time around,
dripped down my life-soaked clothes.
It became me
and I became free
and part of this beautiful city
I know I’ll always love
and can never leave behind me.
