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Pescara

The mourning of something not yet lost

By Jolea BradshawPublished 2 years ago 1 min read

Walking through the park on one of the loveliest of days,

The man playing Blackbird on his acoustic slowly fades behind me.

Spring is rolling in in Italy,

And the growth in me is blooming now more than ever.

I never feel like I belong anywhere until I’m about to leave it.

I felt like an imposter in Texas and like one here too.

I’m trying my best to absorb these moments in all of their preciousness; the wonder of Italy’s features,

the vitality of its people.

Eyes full of wisdom,

Voices full of stories from their lively past.

Arms full of hospitable warmth you can’t find anywhere else, unlike this.

Arrivederci, Italia. Devo dire troppo presto.

Summer is rolling in in Italy, and I won’t be here to revel in it.

excerpts

About the Creator

Jolea Bradshaw

Constantly chasing after chaotic beauty

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  • Ruth Stewart2 years ago

    This is so touching. I haven't been to Italy yet but I should go, my husband is Italian/Scottish. I love the way you savour the moments you had there. Beautifully written.

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