Watching gondolas glide
on murky mirrors
as I wander alone,
over bridges arched high,
immersing myself in the culture
of this jewel of a lagoon.
I'm passing over canals,
watching couples hand in hand,
in love as red as the bricks.
But, why is Venice split in two
when it is the city of love?
The Grand Canal must agree,
as she too wonders through
the sun drenched afternoon;
Until dusk welcomes
masked figures in gold leaf,
dancing past in capes
like thieves stealing hearts
in the magic of the Venetian night.
©️Lizzie Bevis
Nov 8, 2024
Nov 8, 2024 at 7:39 AM UTC
Watching gondolas glide
on murky mirrors
as I wander alone,
over bridges arched high,
immersing myself in the culture
of this jewel of a lagoon.
I'm passing over canals,
watching couples hand in hand,
in love as red as the bricks.
But, why is Venice split in two
when it is the city of love?
The Grand Canal must agree,
as she too wonders through
the sun drenched afternoon;
Until dusk welcomes
masked figures in gold leaf,
dancing past in capes
like thieves stealing hearts
in the magic of the Venetian night.
©️Lizzie Bevis
Another of many poems written on my travels, I wrote this one when I was 18 years old, I believe I was sitting in St Marks Square drinking a cup of coffee at the time.
Random fact: The Grand Canal is shaped like a question mark…I loved how I incorporated this into the poem too.
Venice is truly breathtaking.
