The colour of winter in Lisbon is chestnut brown

smoke mixing with morning fog in Rossio station
a gush of wind
sends a thought flying

A hand reaching for the brown paper bag
too cold to ascend the Christo Rei
Sky breaking open in the afternoon
Soft is the sun while shining

Warmth touching the tips of fingers
Charcoal offering its bitter breath
A smile transcending the sweetness of Pastéis the Belém
Each hill leaving the streets winding

Biting through the earth’s brown fruit
Fado and Africans lingering from a far
Bringing life and character to Chiado and Bairra Alto
The city longing for a new tiding