I've seen foreign stones bleed out fountains of wanderlust down your waterfalls
I've seen shards of mirrors swimming in the ripples of your sea
The one's that still hold the reflection belonging to the wandering passerby on your streets
I've watched as droplets of ink from a sunset sky pour onto your maps
Colouring in the roads that lead to your history
I've seen the flowers in your gardens spread their fragrance onto the sleeves of those lost in your alleys
And the soil underneath them surrounds the seeds of friendship that they leave behind
I've seen hope in the layers of your canyon rock
And resilience in the avalanches of snow that tumble down your mountains
I've seen the architecture of your emotions towering over my outstretched hand

And now I sit by the water trying to paint a picture of your roads on its surface
My hand reaches out into the distance, waiting for the light of your moon to embrace it
And I watch as the stars paint constellations that remind me of you
I dwell in the lonesome nostalgia, recollecting every fading memory
Hoping that when the sun glitters on the surface of your water
You'll see me sitting there, painting a picture of you