There will be a time the playground roundabout of friendship
lighter than the merry-go-round of Lucca
diving us at the very heart of
a rusty swirl of red-brick alleys.
As the path rises, there will be swings.
Then a desert and ivied and rufous town
only inhabited by rare voices.
There will be this village in the sky
where dance pancies and tiny white blossoms.
Certaldo Alto, 16/03/16, 11h40