I feel steeped in your history

Athens

of the north

each time I breathe

in the rain,

that rusts my armour

yet builds my arsenal.

I feel your beauty

and I desire

nothing more

to be soaked to the skin,

dripping wet

on a boundless summer’s day,

to feel the chill of North Sea

air warm me

as snow swirls in August

and the sweat of Christmas Day

applauds,

Athens has nothing on you

Siren

and I am rocked

in your tender

arms.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016