A story of a city

Sometime someplace somehow, it is so different yet familiar.

Winter tells a story of a city of river. A story wrote by the scarlet sunset, the violet night and the enchanted moon.

On the balcony I stood, wind blows and stars shine, it’s a tale of the foreign lonely sky. Gaze upon the scenery, only the sound of moonlight whispering.

Only now, I see. Only now, I hear. Only now, I feel. It is just another lonely chapter of the tale from bluest dark sky.