Tuesday, October 11, 2011

sun lay across the plaza gold

by Steve King
© 2011
All rights reserved

sun lay across the plaza gold
shadows gathered in corners
from where we watched
a thousand footfalls
raise hot dust

while we waited
not speaking
not to speed the moment on
there came music
from some other place
murmur of a song
new that summer
now old and only passing fond

and flowers at the far café
I could not quite see colors
saw it as a spray
the idea of flowers really
it might have been a picture
or a bright tin sign
or anything at all

or it might have been flowers

we heard the train from far
took time with the drinks
as if time wouldn’t matter
couldn’t matter any more
it would make you sleep you said
I knew and nodded
sipping slow
you cursed but soft
a bright wine drop
upon white linen dress

that moment I was grateful

you would carry this along at least
like a charm
you would peer into this blot
and see what was this day
you would hold with you
a note of the plaza and the song
even the dust the flowers
or the bright tin sign
and the shadow where we waited
where you spilled our wine


  1. Sun truly shined upon your piece, vividly written.

  2. There is a sadness here like the last meal of a vacation or of a relationship. I was transported. Thank you.

  3. Wine on a white linen dress.... I like it.. Nice touch to the sadness of goodbye.

  4. I like the scene you painted here... sad poignancy, just a drop of it, was enough ~

  5. Steve! This is wonderful...I know! I'm totally starting to sound like a broken record, but the images are as real in my mind as though they were My memories. You've brought a moment to life beautifully!

  6. Golden words for a magical place - a beautiful render of a scene. Memory or fantasy, it is a place that sings for the heart; a lovely moment!

  7. 'the idea of flowers really
    it might have been a picture
    or a bright tin sign
    or anything at all'

    You say so much in these lines about the nature of memory. It sets the whole tone for what follows. Masterful.

  8. smiles...she will carry it with her a small piece of a very special moment and you will know that you are remembered...well done...

  9. Touching, sweet nostalgia...Loved the line where you describe "the idea of flowers" and the red wine on the white linen dress...yes, that would be remembered. Lovely, Steve!

  10. I love the splash of color throught this romantic affair. Beautiful and mysterious, Steve.

  11. How interesting a device to use a stain as a way of fixing a special day in memory!

    Unfortunately, I tell my wife I haven't eaten if I haven't dropped SOMETHING on myself. We use a lot of "Shout." And try not to remember most of our big lunches. And the wailing emergency vehicle sirens that most often pass our corner at dusk, or midnight, or midday or dawn...

  12. such a beautiful the details like the bright tin sign...and of course the spilling of wine...just a tiny reflection on the outside from what stays forever within

  13. What a beautiful story.... I've been there a dozen times... also your poem is very descriptive, "I could not quite see colors, saw it as a spray" most intense.... I enjoyed that bit a lot. Your poem is quite alive in imagery, and the most gentle caress of emotion.. It's moving.. Steve this is beautiful.

  14. Oh you must have been in Florence, at least you took me back there to that special light in the piazza in the shadow of the Duomo, lovely colors, Italian history in the dust of my feet and the sound of a train not far away knowing I'd shortly have to leave. Lovely.

  15. Just beautiful! For whatever reason, your poem conjured up an image of Hemingway and his first wife vacationing in Switzerland. Perhaps it fit a photo I've seen of them and their band of ex-pats. Enjoyed!

  16. Every little thing becomes precious in trying to preserve that last moment before leaving. Ingenious, and touching -- that bit about the wine stain. :)