Streets of Saint Petersburg
Lost inside Saint Petersburg
I travel by foot toward the river
church bells ringing silently
deadened by the dank air
creeping down my neck
I swear I see your pretty face
among the many gathered
‘round Palace Square
faces reddened by the wind
or wrapped in woolen scarves
Just as metallic music erupts
below the darkening clouds
young souls scream to life
and storm center stage
like a swarm of angry wasps
Lost inside Saint Petersburg
I blow on my hands and
stuff them inside my jacket
my feet taking me closer
to the river and back to the
University where I belong
october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
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