The way the water sparkled never quite left me. And I’m quite sure it never will.

Porto, Portugal. The place I call ‘home’ even though it isn’t. The gorgeously gloomy city that stole my heart the moment I stepped off the plane. Porto, you are to me what the nightingale was to Keats. A saving grace.

Ode to a City…

My heart aches, when I think of leaving you

Soft city, cold to the touch, warm to the soul,

You welcomed me with music, fresh sardines, and azulejos, blue

When I felt broken, I went to you to make me whole

Again. Soft city, what will I do without you?

‘

O, for a year and some, you’ve been my haven,

The place I go to escape faces familiar, routines mundane,

Losing myself in your crevasses, dark as Poe’s raven

Black feathers of smoke, mingled with rain.

‘

Fade far away, the things that trouble me

When I see your crooked smile, in-between, a glistening river

Sparkles, even when the sun is trapped behind a pea

Shaped cloud. The river, drawing me in, with an inviting shiver.

‘

Away! away! I find my way to you,

Not by rail or sea, but on winding, mountain-side roads,

The sickness they bring, are worth it for the view

Of you, soft city. Your embrace, instantaneous, lightens my load.

‘

I cannot see, past your charcoal hue

So thick, so all-consuming, your embrace is almost

Suffocating. Hold me tight, soft city. I feel it coming true;

My dream. The one where you are more than a ghost.

‘

Darkling I listen; and, for a while

I have been half in love, with quiet escape;

Called to her from afar, with tears and a smile

Upon my face. I dread the day you are a dreamscape.

‘

Thou was not born for death, immortal City!

Year by year, day by day, you are brought to life

By people, whose eyes glimmer at your pretty

Face. You struck me from day one. Sharp city; soft knife.

‘

Forlorn! the word goodbye is like a chime

On repeat. One I cannot escape, one I cannot beat;

To leave you, for good, is my necessary crime;

Forever is where I’ll keep you, until the day we meet

Again.