Feel the pulse
Of a new found living
Reaching
From the courtyards
Of old cobbled stone
On broad terraces
Overlooking aged willows
Dampened by Leonardo’s
disfiguring mist
And ancient stream of water
Snaking its way in between
Aching cosmopolitan
urge
Waiting for the evolution
vibrant with a life
of its’ very own
glass tower , metal ,
And smooth

Stone .

Poetry,
a soaring building,
that makes one alive