Piano man of Valletta

Posted: November 19, 2014 in urban poems

piano man bw 3

A straw hat tilts over his eyes
and sun weaves
through the square’s umbrellas
to bounce off his white shirt.
In this gentle flare we sip our lattes
and Americanos as he seamlessly
slides through a practiced repertoire
on an upright piano that has lived

in a different age.

And she,
she dances barefoot
outside the Café Cordina
while the hum of our voices
rises and mixes with music,
pigeons, Maltese flags stretching
in a gentle wind.

Looking down on us all
from the wall
of the Casel Del Comun Tesoro
a plaque tells us that
Coleridge worked here for a year

where I am working now

where a thousand poets and writers
have worked in between



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