Poetry

Tuscan Dreams – Ally Ameel

italy is

bees

bees

and

cyprus trees

it is made of

lavender

covered in lacy butterflies

who flutter

and fuzzy bumblebees

who hum as they make

honey

there is

green

and more green

and coffee

without cream

that looks dark and rich

like the hair

of the people

who live there

and speak with

thick voices

italy is made of

hills

rolling

one over the other

that never end

a pattern of roads

snaking through valleys

and up the mountains

that reach

so close to the sky

which is blue

the bluest of blues

the sky that I dream of

the buildings are made of

stone

bricks stacked

some in a lopsided way

some newer

from times

when things

were better planned

there is marble

and alabaster

and wood

everything is beautiful

I can feel how it changes me

somehow

deep inside

as if a shift it taking place

in my heart

it’s a remedy

for writer’s block

for heartache

and heartbreak

it heals the soul in a way

of making time relative

and almost nonexistent

as you forget the day and the hour

and it is as if reality

is put on hold

until you return once more

but never quite the same

as you left

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