Venice is plunging into long, dark, alleys where the sun is forbidden,
Into a bustling campo where darkness is hidden.
Masses of tourists everywhere –
Some strolling gently, others more purposefully,
Children playing on bikes and scooters
Calling to Mamas hanging out of windows,
Tour groups blocking streets en-masse,
Shops selling hand-made masks and Murano glass.
Multiple cafes with enticing, gorgeous smells,
St Mark’s square, the campanile, the sound of the bells.
Elderly residents bent over to evade the still-chill spring weather.
The beauty of Venice is not in this crush of humanity,
So you slip off down yet another alley
To encounter a pathetic old woman
Begging for a few coins –
Right next to designer-shops for designer-lives
And you wonder how the two can be reconciled.
You plod on from one bridge to another,
Dipping in and out of the famous square,
Admiring the skills of the gondoliers
Manoeuvring around narrow canals, pushing lazily off walls and poles.
Copyright wordz2Go Apr 2016