I think I have now seen the most beautiful city on the planet.
It's warmth, romance, history, and architecture coalesce so
Powerfully that I feel myself moved to tears just to be amidst it.
It is a place of myriad narrow cobbled streets, dimly lit, quiet,
Where middle-aged couples stumble into the shadows
And sneak giggled kisses as if back in high school again. 
Where small inviting restaurants glow on cold street corners
And glass-fronted pubs exude a milieu of happy reverie
Where charcoal-bottomed trams clang and spark
And pedestrian lights clack and chatter cheerfully
Where ancient statues hide demurely in dark recesses
As silent sentinels to greater times centuries past.

As I walk out onto Charles Bridge, I am at the city's focal point
Each turn and each shift of focus brings new wonders.
Blackness is the principal backdrop, punctuated along
The bridge by the attendant seeping streetlamps
And the white noise of the river scurrying below. 
Turning to face the castle leaves you awestruck.
A giant expanse of palatial and intricate construction
Its carved contours and endless grid of windows 
Frozen in a wash of proud tinted spotlighting.

Across the other side of the bridge, I disappear
Into the winding irregular streets of Staré Mesto 
Which loop and split from restaurant-lined cobbles
To small deserted courtyards that entice you into 
Their seemingly forgotten enclaves and then
All of a sudden spill you out into a vast square
Onlooked by a towering collection of statues,
Stately buildings, churches, and clock towers.
Prime of which is Hus' monument in the center,
A writhing mesh of blackened bodies that have
Witnessed and endured manacles of occupation 
And now stand defiant and free, prevailing.