Three Happy Italians

Palazzo Strozzi near the Duomo is empty now, The tourists having sought more grand amusements; Perpetual restlessness the most common souvenir They’ll be bringing home from vacation. Giotto’s Campanile seemed manly from the outside, Its shoulders squared against the distant mountains, But its winding stairs betrayed an inner sadness, That worried my intent to see the skyline. The streets of Florence fairly simmer in the sunset. I crossed the Ponte Vecchio to get across the Arno. Three happy Italians splashing barefoot in the fountain Remind me I’m a long, long way from home.