Where I've been

Branded at the edges by quiet, sorrowed instants, A paradise of dampness, clouds, and rain, My beloved city — through your fleeting gleams and dimness You weave your spell and gently fool the sane.   For strangers, you are capitals and mirrors: Palmyra, Venice — Northern, yet the same. Imperial, aloof, the fortress seems, If one won’t look past iron lace and frame.   For me — you breathe. Capricious and possessive, Proud in your bearing, distant, hard to tame. You guard your