espresso sipped in stone mountain village pigeons eke a meal from crumbs scattered a cool breeze moves Anastasia's locks But nothing, I say nothing, will move her heart stone lady said goodbye, not au revoir but final. She drank red Moretti from the jar as red lips culled my heart. Cool jazz turned to bitter blues Air dried tears... Is this how prosciutto is made As the love life left my inert frame She left my morose thoughts, turning the corner Espresso gone, samba a molinari takes its place L'amore broken in San Gimignano Tourists flock eking a bargain Taking home high priced items I take home a stone heart.
I write about Stuff 
You must be logged in to post a comment.