In the old town, they walk uphill,
Each step burdened by the heat's cruel will.
The burning sun, a relentless oppressor,
Searing their arms, a scorching aggressor.
But moments of respite like gentle relief,
When the sea breeze sneaks through the streets' mischief.
Cooling the sweat-drenched arms and legs,
Whispering solace with its gentle begs.
In a shop, they find a retreat,
Opening the door, the hit of cold air, so sweet.
The scent of vanilla dances in the nose,
A taste of ice cream, pure bliss it bestows.
Yet onwards they push, uphill with might,
To witness the sunset's breathtaking sight.
Golden tones blend with violet and orange,
The sun bidding farewell, a vivid arrange.
As it loses itself upon the verdant sea,
They take a breath, a moment to be free.
But duty calls, and down they must go,
To finish work and start the same day's show.
Yet amidst the toil and the cyclical refrain,
They hold the memories, for they are not in vain.
The uphill battles, the burning sun's embrace,
All endured for moments that time can't erase.
For in those fleeting instants, a heart is fed,
With beauty, with wonder, and a soul's thread.
And though the journey may seem endless and long,
They find solace, knowing they're where they belong.