Last Night At Baku Balcony

On my last night in Baku, I sit high and still,

Balcony perch beneath midnight’s chill.

Below me, the city’s pulse comes alive,

A sea of lights where stories thrive.

Street lamps glow in soft amber hues,

Casting warmth through the midnight blues.

A couple drifts by, hand in hand,

Lost in a world only they understand.

Laughter rises, mingling with song,

An echo of joy, clear and strong.

People wander, each on their way,

In the dance of night, as dark turns to gray.

Music drifts up, a quiet serenade,

Notes woven through the streets it played.

The hum of life, the murmur of sound,

In this lively world where memories are bound.

The chill settles deep, the breeze soft and low,

With whispers of places I’ve yet to go.

Yet here, on this balcony, I linger and sigh,

Drinking in Baku beneath a velvet sky.

Tomorrow I’ll leave, but tonight I’m here,

Part of this city, so distant yet near.

In the lights, in the laughter, the lovers who roam,

For one final night, Baku feels like home.