art rat cafe

words, images and food for thought

memoria italiana

Cinque Terra window.

“We’re in Italy,” you said,

“together”

and laughing you fed me oranges,

purple wine, cannoli and kisses

as Mediterranean light

danced through the window

and Italian voices rose

echoing

from the street below.

The beauty of your words

released me,

from my traveling trance,

illuminating and

washing me in wonder,

amazed by the simple beauty

of being alive,

there, with you

in that blue and yellow heat.

It poured through us,

that shining moment,

an ocean of ecstasy and liquid gold

and we helplessly surrendered

to its luminous tide

drowning willingly

in the deeps of colour,

the smells of olives, fish and sea

and the sound of distant singing.

Chair, roof tiles, window glass,

an arched Italian sky, your mirrored face

and the bright calling of bells

reflected radiance everywhere

dazzling and dissolving

behind closed eyes

as we inhaled each others breath

and exhaled the sun,

igniting southern stars.

 

Photo and poem by clinock.

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