Clear sky in the afternoon
pressing over the attic’s gaze…
My steps gliding on a balustrade
edging channels in a Venice of feelings.
A cello concerto moments
vibrate like a handkerchief falling in dust:
smooth, delicate, crystal sugar on old walls.
My thoughts are assembling tightly in my body,
soles following the road like a stethoscope,
music coming to life
among house vine nerves.
From the main street I was lost
through ogival porches,
the keys were hidden in leaves whispers
unveiling velvet hours, rose shadows,
people sculpting melodious pathways
in their carefully polished chairs.
Most of all these
October light hit softly
deep in my eyes.