Reflections From a Terrazo

[jbstillwater]

House empty,
only the mourning doves
know my song.
Summer drips through veins
begging a prayer
of cool winds from Chiampo.

Dust rises, smokey phantoms
melt into piles of dirt
on Via San Pietro,
leaving misty gray veils
amidst grape vines napping
in the mid-day sun.

Sounds of wet surf, miles away
seduce my heart
into lust filled dreams
left-over from the night before.

Agosto in questo villagio,
more bitter than sweet
in this empty house
where only the mourning doves
know my song.

[Lisa Arnold]

excellent poem and imagery Jan...I much enjoyed you this early morning, many thanks for posting!

[The Great Fulcanelli]

Ha un senso di malincolia che potrebbe restare per sempre nella mente, come quanto una goccia di vino resterà dolce ed amara sempre alla lingua. Grazie mille! stai in Italia adesso?

[johan]

Bitter sweet Jan, great poetry as always my friend.

Andrew

[jbstillwater]

Thanks Robin, no I am not there now but lived there for several years. I long to go back huggs-Jan