An Ode to the city that never sleeps

Travellers flock from far and wide.
Hot bronze bodies bask, and
soak in the sun.
Like bees that pollinate spring’s blooms,
they swarm to the warm sand.
Transcending waves
flitter gently like little fingers,
echoing twinkle, twinkle, little star.
And the delicate breeze,
how joyfully it caresses my skin
as I stroll your esplanade,
where the Mediterranean Sea
gazes sheepishly at the Bay of Algiers.
You welcome me with open arms.

Scrumptious delights glow emphatically,
like flaming red, blossoms ripe for the taking,
dotting sidewalks beyond the strand.
I watch with amusement,
as the street sculptures along La Rambla come to life
like lightning bolts that strike the night sky
and appear like magic,
for a moment in time.
And the sky explodes with thunder,
as do the children that shriek with utter delight;
“They’re moving!”

In the night’s cool breeze,
wild and reckless young souls party under the blushing moon above.
The city lights up, shimmering.
Overflowing restaurants pump with energy.
I wonder with anticipation:
what pleasure will this night bring?
There is never a dull moment in the city that never sleeps

Organic twisted landmarks woo medieval towers,
side by side in harmony
like bashful lovers in the park.
Dignified and defiant,
cobblestone alleyways gratify the eye
and indulge the heart.
Miro, Dali, Gaudi and Picasso have adorned you.
Indelibly they have left their mark,
like a cat that sprays at every post
‘This place belongs to me.’

Barcelona, my noble old friend, so wonderous you are.
You welcome me with open arms.