Due Santi Poem by Michael Walker

We remember roses there,
And wine, as yet, upon the vine.
Of the canine be aware.
We were not there in wintertime,
In Due Santi, in Due Santi.

The clouds were pink, the land was gold,
The sky a cope of baby blue,
And everyone while there feels old,
And yet, everything feels new,
In Due Santi, in Due Santi.

Heaven comes at evening
To kiss the earth to bed,
Yet when the winds start seething,
We wish that we were dead,
In Due Santi, in Due Santi.

We see pears and apples flee from the trees,
We hear the whispers of saints in the breeze,
In Due Santi, in Due Santi.