brassy windy saturday sings

I have to lend a little more belief to the love I give you.
Because
I softened your petals, at least,
my dark and lovely flower,
if I couldn't make you perk up.
You've been on artificial sunshine,
so it follows -
but I am here
cross-legged
in this city that is a meadow to me,
keeping this windy day
from stealing you
all the way away.
Brass sails over the streets -
the tuba jaunts
and the sax, the trumpets weave;
snares strike a march down
to the spot
where I watch the world and read.
You are at work
wishing for sleep,
I know,
but I'll be here
to smile what I can
through the clouds,
to your leaves.

And when I go tomorrow morning,
this city will be stuck in my head again,
the same tune as you,
lifting.