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"Honeymoon Eyes"

Posting this poem in honor of our 10th wedding anniversary...

Honeymoon Eyes

Everything is filtered through honeymoon eyes.

The Piazza San Marco, its squabble of pigeons and

tourists, a little bit of Italy.

David Gilmour, pinkly lit

through misty sheets of summer storm sounds

comfortably numb as he

hums mightily to the crowd

where we stand.

Us. And them is everyone.

Black and blue

we later found to be

the colors of that evening,

when our sweet Aurora was conceived in

more than thought

more bacchanal than beloved,

like a Veronese painting, the kind

the Doge lived inside.

Brilliant luminous hues of viridian, cerulean, scarlet

blood, mine and yours awash with wine,

giddy with cannabis and canals and cannoli.

Me in my dangerous blue dress and you reveling

with me at the Caffe Paradiso.

©2016 by Deborah Kahan Kolb. Proudly created with Wix.com