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Prague

I dream about going to Prague.
There's something strange
about the streets in there,
that attracts me.
Light, windows, pavements
and even the sky;
not blue, I believe. 
Skies are colored.       

Summer feels like a dream.
Getting tanned has become
a practise. Soothing.
Winter is gorgeous. 
Getting sick under the
dark cloud has
become a season, inside.

Stories chooses its tellers, it seems.
Like me, like you,
like the streets of Prague. 
But, We only choose
what we want to choose.
By the end, it's a full circle.
A paradox.
The summers, the winters,
the colourfulness and everything,
is just a dream. 
Like you and me together.



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