COPENHAGEN :: enigma

Cyclists speed past
In a blur.
All black,
Head to toe,
Hair fanning out,
Turning off from
Main roads into
Lanes called home.

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On clear days
The sky is
Brilliant blue,
The harbour’s colours
Shine in the
Canal’s reflections
Where yachts are moored,
Masts high.

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But when it rains
A curtain of fog
Descends upon
The city
And across canals
The distant blur
Of blinking lights
in the mist.

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Copenhagen,
I am not sure
What to think
of you
There is great beauty
By harbours and
In parks,
Along canals.

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But you have
Blank windows
And unmarked
Houses,
Uninspiring roads,
Few cosy streets
Save lovely
Sidewalk cafés.

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Maybe it is me –
I have not seen enough.
I do not appreciate
Your charm,
I ask for too much.
But in the end I wonder
If there is something
Missing.

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