"Mirrored Reflections: To the the City that Smells of Orange Blossoms," A Poem
The minute I arrived,
I was greeted with the sweet smell of orange blossoms.
Every flavor of gelato:
Stracciatella, Dulce de Leche, Caffé, Cioccolato
Home of the Renaissance;
patron of the arts
the waters carry the secrets and history of past events,
carries the reflections of the past, present, and future.
The only bridge that was left standing after the violence,
still remains to this day.
Home of Michelangelo
and his David glistening in marble.
Oh Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore,
I climbed the narrow, spiral steps —
all 463 stairs to the top
where I was greeted with the view of the city.
I still see Firenze in my dreams.
The orange blossoms bring me back to warm summer beams.