A breath-taking little river with rows of colorful houses
in Nyhavn is where you found your happiness.
You now understand why you took your
short walk through these cobblestones.
It was not so much where you were,
as it was whom you were with –
the little wide-eyed child that you embraced,
those two Polish girls singing by the boat,
and the man you held hands with,
who checked every small piece of amber
but could not afford one.
You walked out of the store giggling
about thoughts of stealing for the heck of it,
breathing at each other,
through the fog and the hail.
He leaned tenderly on you,
his jaw unshaven felt glorious to your skin.
You decided from then on that you were happy,
and happiness, after all, was supposed to be free.
