The Sublime Dream of a Wealthy Merchant

O Serenissima,*fabled city guarding the bluest lagoon, remain the Queen of the Adriatic Sea; on a gondola I glide while the gondolier sings to luminous stars. Under bridges of moonlight, mysteries increase by the dozen; standing on the Bridge Of Sighs, a fair-haired girl leans forward blowing kisses to a gorgeous boy who stops and smiles back tenderly. On the topmast he awaits early daylight, unfurled sails excite his spirit never fraught. He looks back for a last time, surroundings whet his curiosity; behind him stand buildings of break and stone that have endured time's fury. The eastern sun comes up slowly, he rubs his moist eyes and sighs; his tall ship is ready to depart for lands rich of exotic spices; they will be traded for linen textiles and beautiful glassware. Months will pass, probably years, a wrinkle or two will appear on his sun-tanned forehead beneath his fluttering red velvet hat; he will think of Venice before sleep- the sublime dream of a wealthy merchant. * Serenissima: The most serene