O Sugary Prague draped in its gentle snowfall –
Hides love but calls it out as well,
As the church spires still reach for heaven,
Finding dark chill, still echoing her defenestrations
and Kafka-gloom, but Sugary Prague finally falls,
And pillows our hardy feet, searching for love
amongst the cold stones & hot hearts & graffiti.
O Sugary Prague uneaten eats loneliness,
its Cosmic Clock ticking out civilization in the Square, where
sugary women split the darkness with bright green eyes
& find feasts & friends in the medieval town far freer than
the “world beacon” is; & where contented love looms
in this beauty’s future, her labors not lost,
her soul in sugar tossed.