Summery spring

the city is now a beach and the streets
contain the sea
of last summer's dream-
pebbles for shells,dust as sand,
weary feet that stand for waves
in this concrete landscape we love
to loathe and hate to leave;
I can feel it on my skin,the sun
is young and so am I!
perfume is running through my lashes,
spreading between white skin and a pair
of old sunglasses,and I can almost touch
that memory of freedom and pleasure,
that piece of the past that's meant
to last forever...
it's here! my long-lost picture of reality
at its finest,somewhere in the heart
of glistening evenings and soft dresses;
but now is just a magic trick and
today is its master-I'm still walking
through the city that never met the sea,
trying to breathe among these people
who never really seem to see...
for a moment there,everything was perfect
and the tides were friendly...