to all the places i’ve never been

i miss you
your clear and placid pools
your colorful fish your litter clogged
canals and the mystery of your coin
with their regal heads turned away
i miss the hungry bazaars
and your prickly fruit your people
the music of their tongues strange
to this foreign ear knowing neither
which way to go whether up the narrow
lanes to the bones of you laden with gesture
or into the grand squares cobbled
centuries ago i miss you as i sit
in this wooden chair my gray beard
combed into a boat

Image: jplenio from Pixabay