Vancouver

In moss and grey corners, my heart hides
across a lonely stretch of industrial water, at 6 in the morning
I wait all day for 9 o'clock
when the heartbeat of the city
strikes at the same time as mine
(from stanley park)
now I see overgrown gardens
and darkened wooden boards,
fragile with age
reminders of what used to be.
Years ago, looking out your window
I used to see flickering city lights
birds circling and ships moving so slowly
they didn't move at all
now, everything is exactly the same
(and that's what hurts)
yet so different
I am in a different world
and it makes me cry.