Like a painting, like a scribbling, like a city,

Like a painting,
Like a scribbling,
Like a city
Dressed in red builds
Going up,
With cranes fit,
As ladders go up,
A picture drops,
The Known city,
The known art,
The known mind,
And yet so italian by design,

Just like Amadore,#
Whom me met through my eyes
And who planted once the seed,
'In search of  La radice, (c)'*
A special, very special thing into me,
Me sees,

A design,
A craft,
An Amadore perhaps,
A fiction of my own,
There on me eyes are shown
Again,
By the morn.

{ Note: the painting attached is not mine, not done by me either, but it is Italian sure, collected from an Italian site.
# Amadore : a character of a fiction written by me and Amadore Ghirlandaio is his full name.
* In search of la radice: the title of the fiction, written by me.
(C) : the fiction ms already submitted, carries copyright protection, quite understandably, }