oh, how i love this wondrous city,
atlantis on the rocks;
one third is ocean spray,
uncommon sense another,
the rest, the hottest fruits.
look, how it hurt to live its winter season,
the aches, the pains, the treasons and betrayals;
and yet, awake, gone are those worries;
would i drown in the sea of sun
that cascades through the window.
that little twig seemed dead ten days ago
robbed by the chill of any little life