I walk the busy streets isolated from the hustle, Crisp wind lifts tendrils of my waves to the textured sky, The roar is silent in my ears - I've walled myself from the world, Walking to my own beat. Forever flat, I could never stop and never tire As my thoughts roam beyond these crowded streets. I remember smells that exist no longer: Cities smell only of concrete and pollution. Childhood smells of wet air, The tangy sweet-sour of decaying plants; Sounds of burbling water and crunchy leaves, Softly shifting branches in the breeze; Tastes of smoke and evergreens; And feels of cold stiff cloth against my skin. I walk nostalgic paths longing for things I've left and will never find in the noisy traffic of the long city streets.