Aflame with raw spring
till the rain throws a grey shirt
on its back, Berlin lives on
busy, distracted, sweet and sour.
Linden trees, concrete,
walls shouting protests
against the sky.
Memory paints a scene of
Urban tales as strange as
history haunt parks,
nooks and alleys.
A terrible angel oversees it all.
With frozen blood in the veins of time,
so carefully sculpted on its face,
Berlin is a punk wearing its angry scars
under new buildings of steel and glass.
Picture by courtesy of pixabay.com