Walking along beside empty roads
With bedroom eyes just lit
By the morning light
And by the smile on another’s lips
Then hand in hand
Then arms about each other
Cool air blowing up the city canal
There by a glass door
Not yet opened to the day
Sitting on a garden bench
With an Indian brave bronzed
Bow drawn tight arrow aimed
Frozen there in memory forgotten
Of help given to save newcomers
From an unknown winter
Too harsh for survival
Welcomed as visitors
Not recognized yet
As conquerors and takers of the land
There he crouches
Before the glass citadel
To a commerce not to be joined
And there sit two new visitors
In the early morning city
Feeling privileged to be there
Feeling welcomed by this city
Knowing that like all cities
In its history lies glory and shame
In its daily life
People strive to build
A nation strong
More welcoming and caring perhaps
Than in some times gone by
Seeking ways to build a home