Will they be walking the same road next year?

I still walk towards the south,

When the wind blows some dreams on the empty streets,

Pavements offering a bed from nightmares and promises of a sunny day.

I still stand on the shore drawing footsteps on the sand,

Leaving a trail of laughter?!

Or maybe they were tears!

I can still see through the darkness of night images of those that walked with us on the corniche,

Throwing pebbles and cursing a never coming rain,

Counting the blinking lights of the harbour before blowing farewells to the forsaken city.

They still walk towards us,