The Venetian

The Venetian by David Philip Ireland

music: Winter from David's Five Seasons

Beneath a window in the Calle

Cool Chardonnay sways us

Stealing chosen moments of our curious life,

To let time slip away

From a darkened shuttered room

He took in noon's harsh glare

Below, the brides to be and gondoliers,

The wheelchair-bound and the football freaks

The tourists in their mismatched leisurewear

Then he's gone,

The Venetian,

From the ancient Moorish frame

Terracotta stucco peeling in the sun

Weathered by the mists of Autumn

And we drift,

Threads unraveling

Time untied in slow motion

The beads of glass and gold you chose

Are little worlds, microcosms,

Captured fragments of Murano blue mornings

Miniatures of an incandescent day

Fused in this art

Is more than most will ever dream

But we see,

We see

The Venetian returns from his sun-dark room and gazes down,

Comfortable in his skin,

Aware and unaware of who we are

We move on past the doorways of the holy hosts

Drinking in the scents of the moment

Patchouli and incense oils

Sensing the moments that have drawn us here today

There's nowhere in this world that would be wrong with you

But here today, with you, this place could not be more right

This miraculous place

This special place,

This other room,

This other view,

This other moment you capture in time

A gilded fragment of our life's mosaic

Glimmering so bright in this light of noon,

Shimmering so light in this night of moon