in Rome

Winter in Rome,
the echoes that persevere back from other ages
seem to dull a little,
being the shopping din a bit louder that season.
Accustomed as it was to be at the heart of it all,
immemorial stone was unabated by the chilly afternoon.

Me? I was just looking to buy some shoes...

In winter, the desire for exuberance
- irrational or otherwise - is greatest
- must be the warmth provided by
the carefully studied decadence, like Piranesi's -
The comfort in simple sins sets in
in the run up to christmas.

the faked hearth and the good food,
the shopping that nurtures the soul,
 - as does the warm wine and laughter -
the love shared in plastic bags
- who says you cannot carry that home with you? -
that we used to fill up with gusto.

In Rome, watching paints by Caravaggio,
walking in the darkness
that never felt this good, this cold.