The coffee steams in our hands,
songs awaken sleeping lands,
your laughter stirs silent seas,
brewing spells between the leaves.
Through old streets our footsteps braid,
where lost centuries have laid,
every stone becomes a hymn,
carved with echoes of our whims.
Velvet walls and broken glass,
whisper tales of those who passed;
we dance in forgotten light,
stringing hours with soft delight.
Beneath banners worn and torn,
our two shadows are reborn,
woven through the market's breath,
trading dreams for mortal depth.
You cradle the world in jest,
cloaked in colors newly blessed;
I drink the dusk from your gaze,
etched in old cathedral haze.
We barter for silver skies,
for mirrors of whispered lies;
the coins we spill are our names,
stamped in fire, stitched by flame.
In the hum of crowd and street,
your voice makes the ruins sweet,
sanding sorrow from the stones,
sowing wonder in my bones.
Over mugs of brewed delight,
you paint stories into flight;
each word a lantern unspooled,
each glance a kingdom newly ruled.
The hours fall like soft perfumes,
kindled under amber moons;
we chase laughter down the veins
of this city's dreaming lanes.
Thus we bind the fleeting skies,
in the tender net of sighs,
where memory sips the rain,
and love sketches through the plain.