I imagined you
at that little table
sitting as the locals do
Early in the morning
with an espresso at hand
Your eyes adjusting
Skin warmed by sun
And the aroma of languid
Curling off you like smoke
At one time....
I wished it could be me
Sitting next to you
Tasting the sugar on pastry
still flakey from the oven
or walking on cobbled ambiguity
in tempo enough with gods
while sipping a wine
of living and loving sweetly
At one time….
words © malai carrara
photography © nausher banaji
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