Dublin

The city breathes in silver grey, a dream half-woken by the bay. The cobblestones remember feet, that danced before the dawn could meet. Your laughter lingers, soft and wild, the river hums like a restless child. The pub light flickers, amber slow, old ballads drift where secrets grow. I trace your name upon the pane, it fades—then finds me once again. The wind repeats what hearts contain, the hush between the drops of rain. Dublin in the rain, you’re the ache, you’re the flame, your voice in the fog still calls my name. Between the tear and the tune I remain, lost—and found—in your rain. In morning trains your ghost draws near, a shadow hums where none can hear. The city turns, the years unfold, yet still your warmth defies the cold. From cliffs to quay, the echoes roll, their salt still stings the open soul. The tide forgives, the heart reclaims, the fire that never learns its name. In every drop, your song appears, Between the notes, the sound of years. Dublin, oh Dublin, you pull us near, where love survives what time can’t clear. Dublin in the rain, my loss, my flame, the skyline burns with your tender name. Between the tear and the tune I remain, still yours... in the rain.