Briverstreet Poem by Barry A. Lanier

I go with the Waving Girl to Savannah's Riverstreet.
To rest a weary soul upon the English ballast cobblestone streets,
Mingling aromas of salty air, barly and rye.
A vastness of Southern skies over the Atlantic,
Shrimp boats on the horizon, dodging the Oriental express.

Movement everywhere, on the waters, and on the streets,
Pioneers and travelers, adventurers and vagabonds.
Young couples kissing on boardwalks, belles dancing on streets,
Families strolling eating ice cream, sailors searching for dreams.
The riverfront trolley tugs along as jazz musicians curdle their wails of jazzy procession.

Among a colorful mix of yachts, tour boats, tugs, and ongoing sea vessels,
Nine blocks of renovated cotton warehouses carry me back in time.
Couples ambling through incandescent streets as live music reverberates the pubs and nightclubs.
Why can't my world remain in this ambience and infusion of nineteenth century old-world charm?