Whatever the blessing or the burden,
the skin of stone or the stone of skin,
centuries of memories buried within.
reminding us where we have been:
the light catching the reflection of rain on a cobbled street,
the infinite horizon where heaven and spires meet,
a kiss of sunlight gilding off the dome of a duomo,
clouds caressing castles putting on a show,
concealing and revealing in equal measure,
the treasure of pleasure, now and forever,
the waft of coffee in the morning air,
the worn-out, uneven, endless stairs,
the perfection of the piazzas in the moonlight,
the shades and nuances of the night,
the black and white of everything we have known,
the colours of Rome. Nausher Nash