pulse of this city in your presence, more alive,
as your eyes,
they sing back the beauty of every building scraping sky, gently- as you
pluck the strings of heart i thought had lost
amongst the midst
of olden day,
this polluted air will miss your wide smile of streaming light, the light i watch
in golden day,
filter thru your hair, as cloud, as in the only angel whose delicate voice could speak so loud,
resonates thru my soul in sound,
the silence of your skin i'll miss
as memory, begging me to replay
over and over until
the day
your big brown eyes again find my grey