Italy

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strolling down the crowded  streets 

the smooth, worn cobblestone

bending and turning 

as if they were blown around by the light breeze

dad and I getting gelato 

and eating it in the piazza 

under the twinkling starlight 

the air thick with the promises of a new tommorow 

a soft tarentella dancing around us 

the pale, warm sun casting the colors of wine bottles onto the soft glass windows of chocolate shops

dad reprimanding me for eating too many hazelnut candies 

and lounging in the fountain's spray 

italy 

my italy 






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