Patros Place
This poem is really a Canzonetta Prime in Pentameter meter
The bay is free of sailing ships this day,
for the weather is not good so we sit
inside the small café out of harm’s way.
We drink a glass of wine and smoke a bit,
she’s not young but I’m not so young either.
This is a nice place until rain might quit,
but rain, wind to stop I wanted neither,
and missing the tide I cared not a whit.
I like Patros Place , it’s close to the shore
where I can see my ship, the brig Sunlit.
It rests at anchor out a league or more
with this day’s harbor master’s signed permit.
I take her hand in mine and ask a word,
her face takes on a smile, eyes brightly lit.
Maria’s wine response seemed slightly slurred,
being little drunk I cared not a whit.
Lady wanted to visit my brig soon
It seemed my quiet asking was a hit.
I told her after rain we’d go at noon,
but before rain stopped I could not commit.
This then was the chosen time I preferred,
to decision Maria did submit.
Her small smile agreed it would be absurd,
agreeing or not, I cared not a whit.
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