XXVI - Edinburgh

Spooky. Moody. Gorgeous. Love you when the sun is up but dreaming your coat of leaves, your wet streets when the rain comes.

The stones of Royal Mile reflect your brightness and your darkness. The memory of old witches haunts the sceptics, who run towards a fireplace, trying to find comfort in a cup of Earl Grey or a stroke.

This halo you hold from time to time makes every single corner special as a gift I grant to a loved one.

Northern winds blow cold flows on those dusty roofs, but the trick is waving back to them.

And for those who have enough courage to spend, a breathtaking 4 seasons painting is revealing its shape, its colours.

I walk down the park, holding a wild bouquet and their scent, just to picture the moment, dancing under the rain, writing in my mind the next poem.

The love for this Jewel is enclosed in every rock of the Castle, looking after the people, and the Royals who live in it.

All the festivals sound echoes in my ears, I'm always attracted by the chirping, the voice of the forest is calling, maybe it's a goodbye, a happy ending, maybe.