Florence, July 2002

Florence, July 2002

Viewed from the crest of the Boboli gardens
where verdant cypresses stand guard,
the vista spreads like a watercolour canvass
washed from a palette of ochre and fawn.

I can see the pavement caf? where we sat
sipping glasses of Lambrusco On Ice,
chatting as the melting cubes gently relax
and settle in the fizz of the aubergine wine.

In the room, two floors above our table,
Dostoevsky, on tour, once wrote.
The window still reflects an existentialist sky
framed by taupe wood and terracotta tiles.

Later we'll climb to the curve of the Duomo,
visit David and wonder at the cause of his frown,
whilst all around us the walls, etched in history,
will remind us of our ephemeral lives.