To Italy

That was his perfume
The whiff of air which just gushed passed
His scent
His every being wrapped up in a breath of air
My air intruded
Our every memory flashes by
Every morning goodbye kiss
Every evening serenade
Those damn Italians
Poisoning the world with love.


6 thoughts on “To Italy

  1. I think the bitter humor you mention at the end fit perfectly, the whole thing has kind of a magic to it, when suddenly we see the card up the magician’s sleeve. I thoroughly enjoyed this breezy yet compelling take on Italy, and the passion that seems to pervade it. Thank you for this.

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