prague

She greeted me like an old lover. She recognised me instantly, welcomed me, and allowed me to see her all. She has changed. No longer is she the city that we knew, no longer is she careless, immature, all heart and no head. She is now cloaked in more dutiful garments. She compares herself to the likes of Paris, Brussels. She kept her Prussian pride but took ornaments from Provence. Now she is more style and grace, less of the bohemia she used to be. She grew with you. She grew with me. In time she will grow old with us, even if the stones and cobbles are changed and replaced. Her soul she shared with us, her soul you keep, her soul I keep.

I found a quiet city, a place true and sincere, taking a well deserved break from the curious eyes, the foreigners, the tourists. Come spring, she will have to dress her best and stand still for the pictures until the bitter cold arrives again. Yet she does not tire. For now she was amongst her own, a quiet and fragile city with deep wrinkles of history and love for even the smallest and newest of its inhabitants. Kindly she rested, waited for the early hour of the sundown and apologised to me for the many changes that masqueraded her parts from me. She said I would find the memories, that she has kept them safe.

I lost myself to beautiful dream: engulfed in passion with an old lover. There it was simple and then it was beautiful. There was no end and there was no reason to fear. The love that we forgot came rushing back with every touch, with every velvet glance. The rain tapping on the leaves outside sounded like applause to the quiet love we made. The city held us, kept us from prying eyes. It was a dream of the past and the future, in a place we both know so well. You and the city are still the reasons I dream each night.

This place I once called home, romanticised as it may have been, posed again as home. Could not wait for me to decide to stay. Saw me leave and could not hide the tears. I said I would be back, in a year or two, I would come again. She wanted me to stay, insisted that I make her my home again. I said Budapest waits, I cannot betray my present love. She understood only because she saw the sorrow in my eyes. She said Budapest is lucky, I said she knows very well. There is nothing I would not do for my old love, but the memories die once lifted from their precious resting place. They can be revisited, but never relived. Prague pained me, she always does, but she makes sure I land on soft grass. My heart hurt and I was unable to stop the tears. Dear Prague, don’t forget you love me, today.

Once I arrived back in Budapest, I grew calm and peace filled my heart. This love is good to me, allows me to dream, helps me find the old in the new.