over the balcony
my mouth holds still
the evenings of dreams.

over the balcony,
my eyes sift through the world
searching for the ocean
behind these carcasses of cement and steel
green-blue glass windows,
and the sweat of the underpaid anonymous.

i see memories folding,
tucking away into everything
so one day, when I'm back here
I'll remember

the salt breath of the quiet sea
the harbor where the sun bursts a yellow world
over our heads,
buildings with glass windows
and the past i grew up in

i want to bottle this feeling
this heavy pride and sadness and nostalgia
rising up the walls of my mind

and one day, when i'm old
and grey,
sitting on my rocking chair
dreaming about the past
i'll let myself shuffle through
this memoirs and be proud
of who i was at sixteen