A man from another world admiring his home city and recalling his first love.
***
Once called Helm, An'tia means 'Abundance' in old Effinitian
And nestled here in the Valley of Grass, I had my first love in this place.
Rain falls often during the wet season,
And the floods turn limestone roads into rivers.
It was upon the raised foundation of my summer moon's home
that I watched the people walk by and saw the carriages creak and roll.
***
We'd play by the Old Helm River
Scooping the crystalline waters with our hands
and swallowing it like streams of diamond liquid;
clear and cool as the moonlight, and beautiful like her
How the fields of grain seemed golden
when the sun shone upon her.
***
In the city plaza, John Dire's face was stern
His posture, straight as stone pillars
His chiseled jaw cut in a perpetual frown
And his eyes engraved with steely resolve
The founder of the nation stood there unmoving
And we grew up saying, "one day, I'm gonna be like him."
***
In the warm season, we'd smell the flowers together
Foxgloves, Marigolds, and Roses too!
The scents, the colors; all of An'tia's most famous dyes
Were like potions of love suffused in the air
How foolishly she'd gawk at the vibrant colors
when there was no flower as beautiful as her there.
***
On the hills at night, it appeared to me like a city of stars
The oil lamps on each street and corner would glow brightly
As our own little suns: each contained in small glass bottles.
The lights of An'tia would never go out, and there I'd pray to stars
For the God of Love to bless us and let us be wed as one.
How many times I visited His temple thinking one day we'd go together.
***
In the ruins of Old Helm, on the outskirts of the city
We'd play Man Hunt together in the rubble
Hiding in the corners and arches of ancient stones
Where the Golden War had ended over a thousand years ago.
She'd always hide in the same crumbling corner by the stream
Where the runoff of the Old Helm River would trickle and flow
***
And after playing all day, we'd eat cheese from the shepherd's house
Bread and crackers from the flour mills or cakes from Easthill Bakery
Nuts and berries plucked by our mothers from the valley
Fresh fish from the river or brought up from the South Sea
Lamb chops and mutton dinners in the springtime
Peach tarts and ice cream deserts in the summer
***
Her father was a fisherman, with rough calloused palms
Whenever I saw him, he'd be hauling some heavy catch
a dozen bass or a boy-sized rainbow trout
All sold at the market to the foreign merchants
Who would stop by our city from across the lands of Jania
To buy gems from Helios, gold from Sahava, iron from Arcticus
***
How eagerly they all traded there with many exotic goods
For a hearty meal, they'd sell us fine Cal'dirite silks
Or in exchange for a few flower dyes, they'd give us sapphires and rubies.
One merchant I recall; his hands trembled as he held the fish
which the old man had caught and sold at his market stand.
He had not eaten a proper meal in months and gave us silver as thanks.
***
Her mother was a seamstress, who worked at the cotton mills
Each day her delicate fingers wove dresses for lords and ladies
The dip of her thumb where the needle had pressed a thousand times
Told volumes of lore about the love she held for her craft;
An'tia, patron city of the God of Love, was a place full of such affections
And her hands did seem affectionate as they caressed the soft cloth.
***
Oh, my sweet home; city of colors where the light never fades
Place of my first love and most splendid moonlit dreams
House of my memories and my memoires of days gone
If I could sell you for a thousand bars of Sahavite gold
I still would not trade you even at the cost of my soul
Though my love is gone, one day I'll see your colors shine again
***
And on the eve of my age, I'll bask in your valleys and meadows
And taste your fruits and grains once more
And play by the Old Helm River again
And salute the statue of John Dire
And surely, I will live in your heavenly abundance forever.
Oh, the city of colors; my home, sweet home.