At the frontages of old buildings, <br />under clouds loaded of nostalgia <br />near silent cathedrals <br />and bent bridges... <br />On the streets of Florence, <br />in the morning, with the color of lilac <br />I weave my hands <br />in your fingers, burning of sweetness. <br />And I feel, how my breath <br />jumps up, <br />high, somewhere in heaven <br />where - in the tower of Giotto <br />pigeons fly <br />brilliant <br />and white <br />as my thoughts. <br />Light pours over me like a shadow <br />with the excited whisper <br />of joyful bells, <br />sprinkled over me <br />as aflower of a spray, <br />Blooming at sunrise.<br /><br />Maria Ilieva<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dreaming-91/
