My City

My city is a city of sirens.

A city of footsteps and sidewalks and people with places to be.

A city of seasons, bleak and fleeting and indulgent and fresh.

My city is a city of change.

A city of principle in the daylight and neon in the dark, if you know where to be.

A city of people who belong, people who persist, and people who fear.

A city of the mountains,

A city of the streets.

A city of songs, a city of solitude, and a city of holding breaths.

A city of flavors--the divine, the solid, the average, the exquisite.

Mine is a city of nighttime walks. Of backstreets, of streetlights.

A city of conversations and secrets.

My city is a city of open arms.

A city without judgment, a city of no regrets.

A city of pollution.

My city is a city of friends on red rugs,

A city of apartments and heaters that sometimes work and refrigerators with soymilk and cranberry juice...if you know what I mean.

A city of souls, of hands, of lips all coming together.

A city of back porches and summer afternoons.

A city of the most incredible heartbreaks.

A city of new outlooks, of chance; A city of unbelievable choice.

A city of sleepovers and magic kissing and decisions, decisions, decisions, decisions.

Mine is a city of trains, of cars, and of airplanes that graze the horizon.

A city of grids.

A city of purpose.

My city is a city that breathes.

A city that lives.

A city that exists in loneliness and cohesion at exactly the same time.

And a city that never quite stops its progression or heartbeat.

Mine is a city of whatever I want it to be.

A city of silence.

My city is a city of sirens, of sidewalks.

Love, Jennifer