Down the city streets.
The trees are all small and strangled,
All lonely and barely standing straight.
The street is as strong as fire.
It even looks like fire
In the sunset gaze.
Away from Lioto's balcony,
Away from the man who makes me wonder
With stories of places that don't exist,
His hand wrapped with the pain
Of some old memory.
I love to hear his thoughts,
His tales that run like rivers,
His songs that echo like caves
In the vastness of the city.
I hope I hear all of his stories
So I can know him better before he dies.
It won't be long now.
YOU ARE READING
The Things I Learned About Lioto Reyez
General FictionCallie Juan doesn't know much about Lioto. But she's learning more every day as he tells her a secret story about the city where he was born. But as Lioto reveals more about his story, Callie begins to wonder: if the story is true, what happened to...
