I do admire
How our seasons change
Winter's tale
Becomes summer's sonnet.
Quaint complexes
And their uncomplicated dwellers
Existing in solid metronome.
Years skip over
And it's always the same story.
How do you keep your composure so well?
He painted still life on repeat.

Sometimes things
Are better admired from a distance.

Her tattered quill
Has been crafting chronicles
For ages
Most with mixed morals
And chapters of relentless passion
Shared by the wicked,
The naive,
The reckless,
And the virtuous.
Divulging into each finely chiseled character
Their legends, their struggles
Bid to cease only when
Clocks move in reverse
(History may not repeat itself here)
Here we believe
We posses the entirety of the universe.
(Infinity stops at the border
Of silver sheens
And construction beams)
Within our pool
Of blood and glory
The myths are no longer only
Fool's dialogue.
In this city,
They are alive.