Trieste, Piazza Garibaldi II

Every morning this thinnest rain,
faithfully loves me in sky modes,
inviting of ether's heavenly codes.
raindrops call me to clouds' reign,

Each dropp recounts of the past,
unspoken streams,
that fled to yon, lightning fast,
and like in dreams,
she spreads hands of rain's soul,
comely queen's homecoming ball.

Convects to me, raindropp of time,
whatever recklessness neglected,
out of solitude time is projected,
defines freedom in an eye rhyme.

Incorporated are tears and smiles,
in this world of February's mists,
I smile to skies and my wet fists,
hold smeared poems on paper files.

Small raindrops fall from the past,
they sting my face in wet Trieste,
second academic in fog semester,
raindrops to stay in my vision, last.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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