Sunflower Blankets Poetry

Warm Tuscan nights whisper,

Parisian cafes and Spanish eyes,

Blinking slowly over sunflower blankets

And ice cream moons,



Wise stone walls against my spine,

Warm marble floors under foot,

Strong coffee on the fire glows tangerine,

Trees of citrus grow sublime .



Perhaps French I'll resume

from the days of classrooms,

Italian from my grandmother,

Spanish from hers.

I loved the way she rolled'em.