in an unnamed city

should we happen to meet in a city unnamed such as this, and happen to recognize each other, even without the sound of voice, or the familiar outline of bones, i'd wish to take a walk with you, out into the streets, no matter the rain, slight or drizzle, the wet pavements with a few puddles, and pine trees, lampposts that may start their light even before the dusk or dark. in some places, we know, the sun sets purple, if it sets at all; in some cities, red.  sometimes, orange.  but in this place, darker and darker hues, of blue, sometimes, also, slate grey.  meeting, we probably will not talk a lot  although we would walk side by side quite comfortably as friends, and, also, as strangers.  and it'll be good, i think, because both of us will be looking at all the unsaid in this place's rainsoaked cosmos, all companionable silence and wondering brimming with poetry.