Her city is black and silver;
suspends exhaust fumes and far lights
roses lost in centerpieces,
their red exposed to arched bridges,
Where silver ripples bounce and flow
and reflect no picture of depth
under noir velvet sky six stars
pulled by the clean clip of the moon;
Wild reaches of reds on branches
are not contained by her city,
nor are the yellows held for long
and browns and greens dip to water,
Slight rainfall in lines and drops,
nothing deep like diamond facets,
nothing full like a harbored flame
rushes free to fight this black;
Although stunning quiet and shy,
it is a familiar face,
autumn trickling through the night,
her city set on the river.