Sights

Just a blank canva of concrete.
The little lines you've got to colour inside of.
There's a hum beneath you - a rumble.
Wind flicks hair in your face.
Your hand is stuck out the window.
Ever felt like you were flying?

New town, new mystery.
The days merge into weeks, weeks
flow
into months. You've seen
the iron triangle from the Seine.
All lit up like a Christmas Tree.
Nothing special.

Because you've seen Inca homes,
High in the mountains. Ancient history,
Ancient mystery. Greater than towers.
Leaning towers - an architecht's secret.
You've seen walls - walked them.
One can be seen from space; one contains history,
anger and rage.
Why were they built?
You've seen lights. Neon f l a s h e s which spell
out Japanese words. Flashes in the sky accompanied
by humming tunes. They match your shivers.
You've seen floating dreams of architects.
Masked balls in canal reflections, colourful
sacred ice creams with white sprinkles.

But it's just a thought.
No answer to these mysteries.
But no worries because
You've got time.
Time and sights.