A Granddaughter’s Dream
She watched in awe,
with memory dripping down her face,
freshwater pearls of days long gone.
Ghosts of the regatta flowed swiftly along the canal,
Venetian splendor etched in her heart.
Colors of Murano brilliant in the sunlight
beckon her to follow the sails
and find her regal place.
The gondola of her grandfather disappears around the bend,
covered in fog coasting past the railway station.
She bends forward
a sail in the wind
nestled in her sandolo mascareta
desperately reaching for the ghost,
unable to touch as it disappears.
6 thoughts on "A Granddaughter’s Dream"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
This is wonderful. You’ve taken me on such a journey.
Virginia, I love the nautical metaphors you crafted in this poem.
the poem, like the “freshwater pearls of days long gone,” has me a cheering spectator to this Venetian regatta
What beautiful images. I just love that last stanza. Gorgeous write.
You’ve carefully painted so much detail and left the reader with a sense of the forlorn.
Even though it’s a dream, you ground us in time and place. An education in gondolas. I looked up “sandolo mascareta” and saw it was used mostly by women. I love the learning, the journey, and the poem!