Forgotten Venice
You grin,
the Kodachrome is Venetian-dusk.
The photograph still perishing
from its vintage exposure.
On the back of the image,
bleeding to invisibility,
a telephone number.
The London area code is quaint,
only a young man on a ‘Triumph’ motorbike
could trace it now.
I still want to try.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
