Every morning

The house had arched windows and thick walls -

There was a courtyard like a deep well - 

Tangled greenery, a square of sky -

A spiral staircase led upwards from the hallway - 

Every morning, Sophie would open the door to the street with a delicate key - 

All would be silent - 

Wallace would kick his football past a drowsy waiter putting out chairs -

We would walk towards the river - 

Sophie and I would eat almond croissants in the Bar Meccanismo -

The Japanese waitress would bring us coffee - 

Wallace would ask for pancakes glorious with honey - 

The patron with his hooded eyes woud smile his patron's smile - 

Trastevere, Rome

April 2025