I've oftentimes wondered if the smell of coffee brewing is different in Paris than in Rome.
I imagine the traces of flour and vanilla drifting in the misty morning air
outside cafes or bakeries.
Feeling the ancient stones under my shoes as I walk through the streets.
Peace; its source or cause is unknown to me, all I know is that it will be.
Maybe my mind will slow for the first time in my life.
Lights, however bounteous or few, shine in evenings and nights.
Staring out the hotel room window watching
the cities change from midnight to morning.
Everything will be new
seeing will bring peace.
The warm sun on my face and on my legs
Sun rays flare across my camera's lens just when I try for the indefectible shot.
I needn't fret, I'll take it with my eyes.
My eyes close as wind rustles through my hair and my clothes
breathing in calmly
the new air in my lungs.
New air may clear more than just my lungs.
Wondering through streets, passages and avenues.
Looking up at flowers on terraces and ti