Always Rapallo

A poem about the Italian widows in Rapallo

As the sun goes down,
Their hands dissolve into one,
Moving slowly now,
He whispers “here�
They stop lost in the sun.

Today she walks alone,
Covered in mink ,
Her emotion hid behind,
Dim black glasses to block,
The sun and her low tears.

The shadows scream him,
The tide flow reminds her of,
The day he washed away out of her life,
The breeze continues to whisper ,
“I love you always.�

Except she is still here
Watching the sun go down
While his always has disappeared.