THE BAY OF BOSTON

So did the leaves tremble
at the breath of
a sudden chill,
in the midst of
colorful hopes already
owned by others,
as the same road awaits.

Montreal cold and gray
with all those shops,
incongruous
with spices and pungent smells
deceived us of where
we really were.

Then I left you in such moldy flats
to spend a never ending winter,
lone at your empty banquet.

The sightseeing along
the highway
staged a melancholic show:
distant reds, yellows,
and agonizing greens
red, burgundy, into brown again.
A see-through of skeletons
the stretched trees stood
slowly sinking into apparent death.

I now stand looking at the dense black water
of the ocean
washing needles ashore
while the unrelenting joy
of a clear day
stands behind the newly built 
outstanding condos promenade.