21st April 1987

Title: Dolceaqua

Context: visiting my Uncle Mario in his home village whilst cycling back from Milan to Paris

With a blaze of sun and a veil of light

Reflected on their walls of hand-drawn white.

Washing the air with a sweep of grace,

This Lady of Power, so sweet her taste.

As if the mount has no claim

For protection and honour the castle is famed.

As a star so bright, the sky reflects,

So do her people, so proud and erect.

Standing to her side with a subtle ascent,

Is her bridge to freedom amongst the willows bent.

With her back arched to take the strain,

Prominent and proud, her place is her name.

The fish of the river, the birds of the sky,

In natural surroundings they swim and they fly.

The ducks well fat as the water they tread

And the sign says no feeding, not even any bread.

The battles are all over and the walls decayed,

The gates are now open to her castle of age.

With tombs of gold and memories of old,

For her men of war she still keeps the score.

A sweet water runs through this town,

A spring in all seasons, deep and profound.

With whirlpools and bubbles of laughter,

Forever to recall a place, a time, that is Dolceaqua.