Morning walks*

Morning walks*

Still remember quite, you and me  taking walks,
From Orazio to Piazza Dante,
Almost every day,
Our walking to our dreams,
Our talking to each other,
As talked the breeze
From the Tyrrhenian Sea,

Then perhaps we would take a stop,
Near Odin, to have something,

And the leaves falling by the lonely morning's street,
People of the town,
Still not awake,
Some early birds,
Arriving,
At Odin,
And we walking
While talking our dreams,
You about Paintings,
Your thinking of a vast landscape, Unseen,

Me about you,
Only you, your colors,
Your soft and nimble fingers,
Your face shining beautiful
Your hair weaving a folklore,
And of course, the sea,

You would perhaps flash a Smile,
And we would walk mile after mile,
From this road to that street,
From that lane to this by-lane,

Weaving our dreams, walking
And talking,
With the morning making
A rise of wonderful dream
In our lives,
As if a painted canvas.

(*Note : loosely based upon a painting, as attached, done by Duan Zhen Zhong; courtesy: Alex Artista, Musica Pittura e Dintorni)