Ok, it's not you,
It's me.
I see things differently.
The romance of gondolas
Is lost
In the gawking crowds
On each quant bridge
Staring down
As though
We were on display
And we were
(on the bridge).
In choppy waters
The Gondolier,
Hard pressed to steer
To navigate
Past fast boats
In a hurry
Going the other way.
Like most things today
All upside down
Backwards
The romance of true love
Swallowed by
The coin machine
Rigged to take it all
And leave you with the notion
That somehow
You had a great time.
Eugene 10/09/2022
-
Author:
Eugene (
Offline) - Published: October 21st, 2022 11:15
- Comment from author about the poem: We spoil the natural beauty around us in our hurry (over the cliff)
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 6
Offline)
Comments1
Venice requires time, much longer than the 24hours to three days masses of tourists give it in order to tick it off their bucket list (Quick photo and away).
Going to suss you out soon...
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