By Leila Baez / Matthew staff
The mind is a city like London,
His heart is the river Thames,
The exterior is dreary, abandoned,
Sometimes his interior is the same.
His eyes are like crystalline, ocean blue,
His jaw is chiseled, usually clenched,
Analyzing, searching for a clue,
The constant need for a case never quenched.
Looking deeper I see that bleeding heart,
Unshaking desire to help the world;
His soul a horizon, no end, no start
And to him I am but a simple girl.
I’ve decided to remain in his hold,
In this mind palace, I have found a home.