København

The streets skim the silence across their surface like smoke on ice

As structures rise from their frozen ashes, anonymous and massive

Also quite remarkably substantial amidst their candor

Like dustless snowflakes striking the hollow gong of morning’s Eve

The trail of footsteps I follow into the quiet of night remember

To take the peaceful ways back into sleepless illusion

They must strike against it to reveal a purpose within their passion

Just as winter’s quiet dampens the sullen dreams of poetry

This place is barren of grief, of anguish, of strife