By Loukia M. Janavaras
ancient marble frames
wide cobblestone,
hills and trees
as if
a painting
enters life—
pink parasols twirl
in the breeze
and passers-by stroll on
past ice cream vendors’ peach parfait,
a gypsy violinist plays
on, as if
the song cannot end,
as if
this promenade
exists beyond
September Sunday’s mid-day sun.
Copyright Janavaras 2012