A poem about the feeling of seeing St. Peter's Basilica in Rome for the first time, and completing a lifelong ambition for Donald Falconer.
My body finds love inside its sense of sight -
I could stare at you until I go blind.
My guarded heart loses all sense of fight
wrapped inside your sculpted beauty. Oh, let me find
words to express things I can only feel!
But can love be described in a written deed
when feelings are far richer and ideal?
Oh, if my heart was an author then I would bleed
for you. I would transfuse emotion.
Your dome is love and your columns hug the way
to heaven. You are light and devotion!
But what is it - what is the true role you play?
In my eyes you are a soft suckling kiss
placed like thunder hard on our lips with bliss!