Somewhere under the Roman sun
Borghese bark budding with pink
blooms paints a bright watercolour
of Primavera’s alchemy
which breathes up the marble front steps
through lilac, ice, carrying the
hushed rooftop conversations of
collared doves through the thunderstorm.
Teal shutters reveal the courtyard’s
ripened lemon trees, an acid
proof, cypress constellations map
the notes of kissing glasses, our
candlelit backstage; pale heartbreak
fading under champagne fountains.