The hazel frond
The hazel frond, with gracious lilt,
The lilly deigned to whisper near;
And gliding o’er the water gilt
With sundrops did he hum sincere:
‘O close your eyes, my fragrant vine,
And heed my earnest reverie:
My arms with your sweet petals twine,
Your porcelain charm reveal to me.
For I would give you, tiger white,
A pure and precious gem of jade,
Though to your porcelain face’s light,
That verdant gift itself does fade.
The strongest, sweetest gifts of sage
Forever would I give to you.
Their odors sweet yet can’t engage
The beauty of your visage true.
Then turn to me, o lilly pure-
And to my tender blade, I pray-
Thy fairest petal, ever sure
Of all the love I give for aye.’
Bright cyan crystals flow between
The ornate iron and arbors green.
The concrete path on either side
Feels many a leisurely twilight stride.
The secrets heard by River’s ears,
Oft shared by Luna’s beam effulgent,
Do splash against the eager piers
Then sink to deeper sands indulgent.
The sands now own the whispers old
That lovers, laborers, liars, told.
There they rest in undulating sleep,
Whom Poseidon evermore will keep.
A bitter bean upon my tongue,
Its heat my mouth has surely stung.
The Doge’s Palace on my left,
But of its charms I grow bereft.
San Marco’s clock is just above,
Where once I came to meet my love.
The espresso yet I cannot feel,
And from my memories so I reel.
His hand my shoulder lightly traced,
His eyes did smile to see my face.
He my worries did erase,
His smile my heart could fill with grace.
I sip my fix and fix to go.
I cannot bear to leave it, though.
Her endless bridges, her endless brine,
Her alleys, her masks, her sun, her wine.
She is my home, her canals shine,
He may have known her, but she is mine.