In the Piazza

The sound of the espresso machine in overdrive fills my ears,
As the soothing, hot liquid penetrates into my mouth.
Looking around I see others as their lips purse towards their ivory cups,
Finally understanding the comfort in this ounce of bitter delight.

A soccer ball rolls towards me along the cobblestone street,
While a group of children chase after it.
An older couple walks past yelling and waving their arms violently in the air,
Until I realize their actions are part of the culture.

A young couple at the next table are laughing and holding hands,
Showing me the happiness of youthful love.
Again I hear coffee beans grinding in the background,
As I take a sip of my espresso.

A painter picks up his brush,
Immersing it in deep blues, luscious whites, and smoky greys.
Finally combining it onto his blank canvas,
A picture begins to emerge.

Blue portrays the sky, white the fountain,
And grey the cobblestone street.
People gather around to gawk at his creation,
Commenting on his every stroke and movement.

I think to myself what life would be like to live here,
As I take my final taste of espresso.
Walking off into one of the little side streets,
I wonder what else I may experience.

In the Piazza

pam1218

Joined January 2008

  • Artist
    Notes
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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