Living Lost

Give me narrow streets.
Small shops.
The smell of the sea.

Give me cafes that spill onto cobblestones.
Basilica peeking over the rooftops.
Old men sipping coffee.

Young women in dresses.
Tourists just out of sight.
A reason to walk

with or without a destination.
Surround me with walls strong
and decaying.

Tiny gardens in the windows.
Allow me to live lost,
grateful for the privilege.

About this poem.

About living a life of constraints, narrow passages, and uncertainty. A poem about starting over, which I have done a time or few. A poem about Venice. Poetry is never about one thing.

The picture, or course, was taken in Venice.

Be well, travel wisely,

Tom