This is What You Are Meant For

This is what you are meant for.
Finding a place, a person, a time,
and settling down, notebook in hand,
watching the tourists as they pass,
lingering, listening, breathing in the air
and making it you, letting yourself
fall in love, watching the painters on the plazas
dab their paint. Staying long enough
to see the paintings emerge, become finished,
new ones started. Staying enough mornings
to see shy glances turn to conversation
turn to romance, long enough to feel
the change in weather, to become invisible
and part of the scenery all at once,
to see the fashions change and the stones
stay still, to hear the bells ring each morning
and know the touch of each bell ringer,
to hold the hand of your love, day after day,
allowing depth to emerge, building passion
like a fire, a slow burn to configuration,
feeding it in the quiet moments with murmurs
and sips of coffee and looks across the cafe table,
words optional, but when they come,
scribbling them in your notebook.
This is what you are meant for.

About this poem.

The picture was taken in an alleyway in Venice. When I was there before, I would get up early each morning and go find a cup of cappuccino, sit and simply watch the city wake up. It is amazing how much you learn sitting and watching. Beauty and tragedy. Entire stories and lives unfold. It’s a lesson I have taken with me in life, even if in my diners, the coffee is not quite as good.

Tom