In the Sinking

Venice is sinking, and I’ve got my pen

but what of the words left to say?

The swishing water now laps at the brow

and brilliance has gone to decay.

San Marco awakes, as splashing persists,

they gather to see what’s ado.

A page that is bare can still speak so clear

and nudge yet what’s stirring anew.

The wellies are on, legs plastic appear,

the platform will bridge every step,

but unfolding mind takes snapshot in view,

finds words lack real meaning and pep.

In grandness perceive, the wet bothers none

for FEARLESS, the living is bold.

But words sorted true, to point to a depth

can lose what they bask and behold.

Paula Antonello, Poetry. Copyright: Thursday, January 16, 2020.

Image #1: Wrapped Feet Photo by Jonathan Ford on Unsplash

Image #2: Reflection Photo by Luca Bravo on Unsplash