One last walk through the Gothic quarter,
yellow sodium lamps warm the February alleys,
We will remain here for you they say.
Deep dark turns end each little street.
Curiosity wakes energy around one more corner.
Out of sight, energy has a late dinner with time.
I say goodbye to my son, who will stay here.
He is my long, narrow, winding way,
and I do not know where he will end.
I praise the blood, sewage, cabbage rinds,
boot heels, wooden carts and pigeons
that have burnished the cobblestones
that let mystery wander and grow.
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