Outside the window the grey paint fades,
Revealing red bricks, equally aged;
The vines run across the wall and the panes;
In the distance the cathedral calls men to pray.
Should I look further the irridescent sky,
Spreads above, both warm and wide,
But for the thin white cloud drifting by.
The quiet chatter of people from all different places,
In a city old and serene.
A world can be found,
Mature and at peace,
Here in a hotel above Stockholm’s wond’rous streets.
I was recently lucky enough to visit Stockholm on holiday. As ever, a set of poems will appear with time, over the next week or so. Have any of you been to Stockholm?
The Hapless Neo-Romantic