Ark of the Lost Angels

Streets of Berlin, Maryland _{(Credit: Author)}

Inspired by a visit to Berlin, Maryland and the song “I Don’t” by Koda.

The sky was a peculiar shade of blue,
One never found on an artist's palette,
A light-medium blue with a splash of white,
Without a single cloud in the sky.

The trees were too green for that time of year,
The sun was too scorching. 
Autumn’s embrace had yet to take hold,
But it’s melancholy was in full force.

The streets were closed for a local fair,
Musicians and merchants presenting offerings
To both local passersby and transient souls like me,
Filling the air with song and serene conversation. 

The air carried the faint scent of woodsmoke
and my camera smelled of sea salt. 
They were drowned out for brief moments
As all sorts of cooking and candles wafted into the streets.

A scant few miles from the ocean
And I was a victim of desert sun.
Too harsh, too hot, too brutal,
Crafting a storm which only raged in my head. 

Old faces would have loved a cute little town like this,
Fall captive to the same charms which ensnared me,
Little witchy shops and cute eateries,
The rest of the world fell away into calming quiet.

Never has the middle of nowhere been more appealing. 
An apartment in the heart of a tiny downtown stood for rent,
Oh should I have run away to write the great American novel,
And tried to hide where my ghosts may not find me.

Stories burst into my mind, dragging the weight of memories.
I batted aside ruminations on their purpose.
Nothing I could write would shift the earth how I wanted.
My only recourse was to wish.