First impressions of Spain
etched upon my mind,
embedded in my memory.

Graffiti walls, ancient walls,
the test of time still endures
the marking of territory,
as new soldiers march her streets.
Armed with spray paint,
these soldiers of the new guard
place their mark on history,
but not in history.

Palace Royal,
filled with treasure beyond belief,
I bow my head.
Not to monarchs, not to kings,
but to the people who toiled,
who sweated and died,
to perform the deed.

Mixed with the old,
and parts so new
evolving and spinning,
the hub of the city
traveling through time,
all of it timeless
as people walk the streets.

Filled with traffic
cars flow through streets,
in and out,
like raindrops,
down a window pane,
during a storm.
Following a path
set by nature
over time,
up, down, and around the hills.

People on foot travel
pass the beggars
who with their silent plea
remind us of our good fortune
while compassion and confusion
duel for understanding.

Ahh Madrid, so much time and
so many lives have shaped
your soul.
One from many
your bounty springs forth,
energy to the waking day.
Past and present merged
to create,
Madrid today.

Jim Geary
April 1998