A scene in Venice smudged in blues, the sky
and water, pastel shades, the tint of love,
the buildings cinnamon and oyster white,
idyllic view, the way you came to me,
and how we rested in our rippled ways,
a gondola adrift along the swash,
like tourists on vacation, not a care,
oblivious to that horizon churning.
Then as our time ticked on, I found you turning,
the sparkling water losing all its flair,
those pastel blues, that gentle white awash
in shoreline, sidewalk hubbub, tourist frays.
You had to go ashore so you'd feel free.
For you, a love affair was just a sight
along the tourist trail, your heart above
entanglements that falling deep can ply.
Impressionistic feelings … love it seems
is in the brushstroke rainbow of my dreams.