I have been wanting to show you more of where I live . . .
. . . and then the fog rolled in the other night and I knew it was time.
This place is always beautiful, but late on a foggy night
something a little spooky, but also quite magical, occurs.
One senses aspects of the city that are hidden by daylight,
overlooked by the casual eye.
The city's spires reach higher into the night sky
and the trees share some of their secrets.
All the usual haunts become the set of a film noir feature,
and every doorstep glows in the mist.
My city beckons long after the last shops close--
its flowers bloom beneath the streetlights,
and my favorite places
wait quietly in the dark.
There is color, but it's muted,
and the fog blurs the line between the present and the past
until time ceases to exist
and there is only the cry of seagulls,
the scent of ocean mist,
and the echo of footsteps down a cobblestone street.