Rochester Reverie

In the shadow of Erie’s whispering waves, where cobblestone streets cradle memories, I reside—Rochester, a city etched in sepia tones. Allow me to paint you a lyrical portrait of this storied land:

Here, George Eastman’s ghost tiptoes through the Kodak factory, humming forgotten melodies. The silver halides, like celestial notes, dance in darkrooms. The shutter clicks—a heartbeat—capturing moments that linger in amber albums. And the sunsets—oh, the sunsets—they spill over Lake Ontario, their hues a symphony of forgotten dreams.

In May, Highland Park blooms—a lilac reverie. The air, intoxicated by lavender, pirouettes with petals. The Lilac Festival unfolds—a masquerade of laughter and funnel cakes. And the lilacs—those fragrant poets—whisper verses to the wind, their syllables carried by monarch butterflies.

The Genesee River—a serpentine ballad—winds through gorges. Its rapids, like stanzas, cascade over ancient rocks. The High Falls, a crescendo of mist, sings of industry and resilience. And the bridges—oh, the bridges—they arch like metaphors, connecting past to present.

IV. The Garbage Plate Ode

Behold the Garbage Plate—a culinary rhapsody. At Nick Tahou’s, the gods of gluttony feast. Mac salad embraces home fries, while hot dogs and cheeseburgers tango in secret sauce. The brave devour this medley, their arteries humming jazz tunes. And the heartburn—oh, the heartburn—it’s a badge of honor.

Winter descends—a soft sonnet. Snowflakes pirouette, each one a fragile verse. They blanket Corn Hill, cloaking brownstones and wrought-iron gates. Children build snowmen—frosty philosophers—debating existence. And the fireplaces—oh, the fireplaces—they crackle with stories, thawing frozen souls.

At 17 Madison Street, the Susan B. Anthony House hums. Suffrage echoes in its walls—the ink of ballots, the echo of speeches. Susan’s specter—tenacious and unyielding—whispers to visitors: “Vote, for your voice is a stanza in democracy’s epic.”

And so, I dwell in this Rochester reverie, where seasons pirouette, rivers compose, and history etches poetry across brick facades.