New poem

Praha

I watch your ankles buckle
on the cobblestone streets

The light emanates yellow
from leaded glass and the whispers
your hear are coming from
the mouths of weathered statues

We walk under arches
you and I
through open markets
and down musky alleyways

Beneath mosque lamps
amid hushed tones and clinking glasses
we linger
losing ourselves in memories
of stone-hewn steeples and dark bedrooms

Outside the stars preside
over the city’s ancient decadence
all the while knowing
it is in the shadows that we find our way.

Sean

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