Ciao!

Ciao bella!
The old men would 
Shout to me,

While they sat with

Their white-haired amici

And gathered on benches, 

On tiny streets, 

And in the square,

Watching the world 

Walk by.

Absorbing the warmth

Of the early morning sun,

That lit their yellow and umber houses on cobbled streets

A golden shade. 

Ciao, I shouted back,

Not minding their 

Staring eyes,

As I slowly walked the 

Still sleeping streets,

Towards that steaming

Cappuccino, cream-filled cornettoes, and a screen,

Ready to

Greet the world.