The Old City

The sun sets along your stones fixed in a salty breeze,

The crickets chatter, the mosquitoes linger...

A sight of ochre rouge and endless blue,

And there ! A rocky shore,

The enemy of sailors and wooden galleons unseen before.

If your stones could whisper,

O what stories they would tell!

How times have changed

With each tide's incoming swell!

Your draw to Kings both false and true,

Have made your mark on the worldly stage.

I have discovered something other.

I am seeking all things new.

See, a small boat waits in the harbour,

still swaying for the views of journeys anew.

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Side Note: All photos are my own. If you liked this poem, you can subscribe to my upcoming blog posts via the homepage on this website.