Favorite Bricks
Yeah, you're not Europe
but there's enchantment
in your bricks
so poetically stacked
into sundry shops, bustling bars
and sidewalk cafes
even your courthouse
and church
approach the grandeur
of those across the pond
A nomad I roam
for months
sometimes years
but always come back
to haunt your streets
and stairways
I don't have a Caledonia
I don't love you
or hold you when I'm gone
but I feel you calling
just the same
and feel your embrace
when I return
my favorite port
we'll have some fun
but even as I sit here
on my favorite bench
(in your loving arms)
and adore my favorite bricks
my mind's on distant shores
planning my next escape
I'll write a poem in this cafe
and caress your curvy sidewalks
and stairways with steps of gratitude
I'm here
I have you
what a lucky man
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