Sunday Afternoon In Florence
Dreams dashing in daring dragoon
People prancing in purple picturesque paintings
Tourist touring transubstanciating terrain
The world is not just an oyster
The world is my oyster
Like a sunrise in aix
Or a sunset in Florence
It connects my inwardness to the vast labryinthe of world consciousness
World capitals and ancient villas spread out before my soul
I am the dreamer who dreamed himself into his dream and loved it so much it became true.
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.
