2018.06.26
an untitled short prose poem
I fell in love with peach skies over railroads and with misting rain through street light beams, with the shifting afternoon clouds and the late night sunrises.
I found the definition of beauty in the glitter of the Charles outside my dorm window, in the seasons turning the riverside path from green to fiery to barren to cotton candy.
The wet streets at night were cinematic, the snowy sidewalks and lawns like postcards. Every morning was bright and crisp, every evening colorful.
On the lawn by the beach, I watched the leaves and petals do loops in the breeze, watched the cars pass by one way and the rowers the other, forgot that time was a thing that ticked.
The world was ephemeral and everlasting, the snow prints covered in a blink, the snowman melted, but both back again the next year and the next. The river, the Charles, would always stay, sometimes rushing, sometimes frozen, sometimes playing, sometimes asleep, but always moving steadily east.
I fell in love with Boston, but the city is too big for just one: there’s space for you to fall in love, too.
