The Insatiable Itch

I wake with the amber bright sun that rises, 

Feeling minuscule beneath majestic, looming statues with blissful, timeless, stoic marble expressions. 

Marching onward like a gladiator to fight, the grand crumbling limestone arena fills us with glory. 

My fingers twitch in the eternal city. 

A city in ruin from volcanic ash, 

Images of life, documented only by deteriorated buildings and remains of Romans. 

Still bodies cast in plaster. A man sleeping. Parents clutching children. A dog curled up wearing a collar.

My brain itches, overcome, overpowered. 

Lemons, hills, ice cream by the electric sea.

Floating island gardens with lush emerald leaves surrounding wonton marble statues basking in limelight.

Making cheese, tasting oil, cooking pizza. The cool wind brings dreams of a simple life among the fruit trees. 

My hands seize and burn for a pencil or pen.

A metropolis of towering buildings.

No foliage remains amid the monumental structures and tight alleys. Squeezing us like packed sardines. 

A handsome marble man stands tall for his bravery. In the streets, we meet a famed departed inventor. My palms sting against the everlasting sights.

An island city bobbing in shady seas.

Shining sands melted into crystalline glass decorate every stone corner amid mysterious masks. 

Travel by boat amid wavy cobalt waters. Butterscotch limestone walls are covered in deceased mollusks. 

A weighty wave takes me to inspiration.

Rome, Pompeii, Sorrento, Florence, and Venice. 

Stars twinkling overhead, my fingers punch at the keyboard until my eyes shut by sheer force of exhaustion.

Back in office dreary, staring down the dimly lit screen of potential, I write a poem for Italy,

To capture the wonder for all that I’ve seen.