Second place Synapse Storytelling Contest winner for poetry.
As I step across the bay,
Wond’ring if those golden days
Were fleeting ghosts or if we should stay,
I feel the weight of first love fray.
I fear the feelings are bound to pass,
Yet still I am, was, and stayed
For the Ladies of neutral shade,
Just like everyone, a perfect match.
The romance of Paris’ Pacific heiress,
Born of ashes, the essence of artistic air.
With Munich and Geneva just steps away,
How could I leave city so rarefied?
I Fell into dreaming heights,
Where morning skies drip solemn grey,
Then Crissy, veiled in liminal light,
Transmutes gloom to brilliance each day.
No other city has character like that.
All thirty-six, horcruxes on a map,
They seduce and they smile, they brood and they chat — Each one a person making a Union pact.
But I can’t stop thinking somewhere in the salt and pine, My past selves will still toast the wine.
They dance in parks, party on trams,
They beat the city into who I am.
You can take the man from this cityscape,
But the city’s carved into his shape —
Of how I speak and how I stand,
A cordial skyline etched into my hands
I carry love, I carry Haight in my soul
And no matter to what outside lands I Gough,
It was written in fated scrolls
That the Golden Gate will always be home.
