Dawning Creations

A cityscape appeared as the curtains were drawn.

There were sounds of cars and some mysterious sounds we’ll never label.

There was thunder and lightning and the pelting of windblown raindrops.

Metro trains whooshing past us, blinking lights preceding them.

Style and all it’s originality was no stranger and I was in awe.

The brazen display, in mentions of patches of skin or classy dresses and suits all were presented before us.

Streets were busy and the show was brilliant.

I’m still meandering in the memory of Imogen Heap less than two feet away from me.

The music plays in my ears, the soft vocals and chime rhythms, untitled instruments lull me into relaxation.

I don’t want the holiday to end but am satisfied nonetheless.

We saw so much and I’m still lingering on our rainy travel home in the moment passed.

Hues of red, off-whites, and grey sway in my mind’s eye still now that we are leaving.

The magnificence we left behind will fight for takeover until it fades like many other ventures before.

The photos remain, reminding us of all we’ve seen.

We’re reminded as we gander years from then, that we’ll journey soon enough again until we cannot anymore.