|—||Edgar Allan Poe (via observando)|
|—||Donna Tartt, The Secret History (via camilla-macauley)|
I see the emerald hills of Toledo draped in a golden sunrise,
A cold morning breeze is blowing past the trees on the outskirts of Cordoba.
I walk down the white marble entombing the streets of Old Madrid,
The fluorescent lights of nocturnal Paris still dance around me,
As I pour myself a cold beer under a clear Berlin sky.
I fly over and find you walking under a Pennsylvania fall,
Getting ready to play in the Jersey snow.
We go down south, almost to the border,
To have a prime rib eye Texas steak for lunch;
And for dessert we share a kiss that tastes like New York.
You hold my hand as we walk through the Peruvian border,
And take my picture as I pose next to Machu Picchu.
I smile as you play with the llamas we found on the edge of the Titicaca Lake,
And together we look down on the ruins found on the Sun Island,
Before we end up gasping for air on the roof of the world 5,000 meters above the sea.
Climbing down we take a walk under the fading Bolivian sky,
We see luxurious office buildings on the right and brick and mud huts on the left.
The narrow streets of La Paz beaming with life as the sun creeps over the hills,
We walk to our favorite taco stand across from the Cathedral,
And on the last night we have in the land of my birth,
We share a kiss that tastes just like New York.