He tasted the rhythm how his heart moaned

He was free and wild, just reborn

Instantly believing this is his home.

The creamy fog sitting on the streets

The tiny loud creeks crossing under the bridge

They all seduced him this is not a dream!

He hid his head under a hard shaped hat

Mysteriously like Holmes used to have

His hands deep inside his pockets were grabbing

Onto a little note-pad of words

Words of secrets, Secrets of lives

Lives of Misses

The wind took his hat off from the North

Blew it down on the Riverfront

It was the sign to clear his head, feel mild.