by Marc Gunn, August 1, 2005

How I miss my home in Italy. This poem was inspired by a day dream about past adventures.

Light groggily peeks into the bedroom window.
A radio moans a distant hum.
Early morning ammonite fantasies awaken.
They arouse the mind
As temporal reflections of discarded
frustrations
Pale next to warm renderings of shadowed
illusions.
Thus the glow, the hope
grows
Only to be swallowed by intimate minds
activated by
Reading stories of Euclidean chivalry
Brought to light by dull shadows of
Curious Ascension.

Grasping…
Gasping…
Climbing the stairs of Botticelli affluence,
Dreaming of Italian homes,
Narrow streets,
And long walks
Among the feline caterwauling and
Earth shattering love under
Open skies and stallwart sighs while
Sipping espresso in a tiny cafe of my heart.