Treasure Island

Jay Alexander


Italian Morning.


They wait perfumed in fresh clothes,
The kids, at the top of the stairs.
We'll be back by evening, Auntie - says the mother.
Come on or we'll miss the corriera!
They troop off down the stairs,
Across the courtyard into the whining of
A carpenters lathe,
And the crunching of gravel,
Past Mr.B's house, with his collection of
Rare coins,
Through a dank passage and into a warm
Ochre world.
They greet C. in his grocery, which
Emanates a smell of cinnamon and washing powder,
Then proceed along the old flour mill - look
If a body is floating in the water -
Finally reaching the bubbling piazza.
The corriera announces its clanging arrival;
The kids don't care they've got their Spiderman
Comics to think about.

By sundown they were back, weary,
Sleeping on each others shoulder.
Pity it was all over,
And the kids dream of Spiderman.

Submitted: Monday, December 23, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, February 26, 2014

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Year end. Thought I'd go down memory lane to recall some places I visited and things I did as a kid. This and its companion poem: ' Ravenna '. Hope you enjoy!

Comments about this poem (Italian Morning. by Jay Alexander )

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  • * Sunprincess * (3/29/2014 4:38:00 PM)

    .....comics will soon probably cease to exist...now children have video games and cell phones....an excellent write.. (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

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